01/25/2026
I am in a state of emotional disregulation over the ex*****on of yet another human at the hands of our government. I can't stop shaking, crying, raging, yelling, hating, and searching my being for faith, love and compassion to take over.
When I am this dark, not "in this dark"-- "this dark"-- I have to shut it down or I will loose the only piece of me that can stabilize.
The light of sanity--my tiny light of hope, I guess. The part that directs me-- at least slightly- towards a way to not lash, but feel it all in a healthier way.
So, tonight I grabbed my ancestors, sat with them and asked "how did you do it"? "How did you survive your worlds darkness"?
I don't know, really, what I heard, but I know I felt a small shift of tenderness and a tiny pull to get in the kitchen, breathe, cook.
And so I did. A simple meal, a simple tea, and a moment where I felt the tears of mine blend with the tears of theirs for a world that should be but isn't now-- or ever.
For those of you who are loosing your equilibrium tonight, maybe a little chat over a simple pasta with your ancestors will help you, too.
Pasta ca' Muddica