The comedy writer sums it up for someone I know who is so depressed about it all that she finally relented and acceded to her doctor’s demand that she go on antidepressants.
Yes, that someone is me, waiting for the Lexapro to kick in, which should happen around Nov. 4. Until then, it’s hell…
I can’t take much more of this. Two weeks to go, and I’m at the end of my rope. I can’t work. I can eat, but mostly standing up. I’m anxious all the time and taking it out on my ex-wife, which, ironically, I’m finding enjoyable. This is like waiting for the results of a biopsy. Actually, it’s worse. Biopsies only take a few days, maybe a week at the most, and if the biopsy comes back positive, there’s still a potential cure. With this, there’s no cure. The result is final. Like death.
Five times a day I’ll still say to someone, “I don’t know what I’m going to do if McCain wins.” Of course, the reality is I’m probably not going to do anything. What can I do? I’m not going to kill myself. … If Obama loses, it would be easier to live with it if it’s due to racism rather than if it’s stolen. If it’s racism, I can say, “Okay, we lost, but at least it’s a democracy. Sure, it’s a democracy inhabited by a majority of disgusting, reprehensible turds, but at least it’s a democracy.” If he loses because it’s stolen, that will be much worse. Call me crazy, but I’d rather live in a democratic racist country than a non-democratic non-racist one. It’s not exactly a Hobson’s choice, but it’s close, and I think Hobson would compliment me on how close I’ve actually come to giving him no choice. He’d love that
The one concession I’ve made to maintain some form of sanity is that I’ve taken to censoring my news, just like the old Soviet Union. The citizenry (me) only gets to read and listen to what I deem appropriate for its health and well-being. Sure, there are times when the system breaks down. Michele Bachmann got through my radar this week, right before bedtime. That’s not supposed to happen. That was a lapse in security, and I’ve had to make some adjustments. The debates were particularly challenging for me to monitor. First I tried running in and out of the room so I would only hear my guy. This worked until I knocked over a tray of hors d’oeuvres. “Sit down or get out” my host demanded. “Okay,” I said, and took a seat, but I was more fidgety than a ten-year-old at temple. I just couldn’t watch without saying anything, and my running commentary, which mostly consisted of “Shut up, you prick” or “You’re a … liar” or “Go to hell…” was way too distracting for the attendees, and finally I was asked to leave.
via Huffington Post: Larry David: Waiting for Nov. 4th
Funny… as my family watched the debates, it was my teen son telling me to calm down and shut up. (He couldn’t kick me out, but I am sure that was his desire.) Unlike Larry, I simply cannot eat, and I do not drink. And suicide — not an option; I’m a mom. Being a journalist, I cannot censor the news. So I’m stuck perambulating 24 hours a day drenched in worry after spending eight years that sent my family from middle class to destitute… Can you imagine the nightmare that doesn’t end… the thought that McCain and Palin could win, and knowing that the race is closer than many will admit? Add California’s Prop 8 and its loud bigots to the mix, and we’re talkiing a whole lot of nonstop pain and fear.
Please. Don’t give up the fight until Nov. 5, I beg you. Don’t count chickens, just fight. The anti-humanity GOP threat is too dangerous and strong. And there is a whole lotta terror out there.