Bad Things Come In Threes

On a November to remember.

I feel like I’ve aged 30 years in the last three weeks.

It’s to the point that even my therapist is giving me props for the degree to which I’m holding myself together while seemingly everything else falls apart around me — or, at least, so many things that mean so much to me.

To start, the election. I don’t really need to recap that for you, do I? But I’ll tell you what, I didn’t start the month thinking that a second Tr*mp presidency would feel so utterly inconsequential in comparison to the rest of my life. (That’s a very privileged position and I recognize that). Regardless, it’s the truth. In a really twisted way, I’m almost a tiny bit grateful to have such major distractions so that I can’t wallow in Harris’ defeat.

Emphasis on the tiny bit.

Next on the list is my relationship status.