Mourning

How quickly one's mood and outlook can change from one day to the next! The deluge of things happening in the news recently -- despite my attempts to keep it all from leaking through my filters -- has altered my tone. My tiny little local community may be holding together, but the world around us is shattering. People may think I'm over-reacting or being hyperbolic, but this post is going to be as honest as I can make it. I don't want to hurt feelings or stir up trouble. I just feel the need to express what I'm truly feeling. How I truly see the world as it is right now. And writing has always been the way I do that.

I believe it's only a matter of time before the online war and hurled remarks bloom into actual armed conflict for Canada. On the current trajectory, I don't see how it can end up anywhere else. I'm not the only one who sees this coming. Whether the alliances we've built with other countries will come to our aid, I don't know. The conflict is spread over too much of the planet to allow focus or effective response. I no longer feel that hope is a realistic option. I can measure the depths of my love for my chosen country by the amount of ferocity I feel about the whole situation.

I want to stay true to my values no matter the circumstances. I've always been a pacifist, but these days, defense of my home, community, way of life, and country may not allow me to be. I've written to my local armoury to see what someone my age could contribute. I'm looking at my emergency preparations with a new eye. I've started reaching out to key people I want in my circle. All the physical stuff, I can handle. Deprivation doesn't bother me. I can be creative and tough and solve problems. I know how I act under pressure or fear. Others have gone through conflict and come out the other side, and I know we can too. I try to be realistic and reason through my options.

It's the emotional part that's difficult.

Accepting that the peaceful old age I'd imagined for myself, contentedly puttering with my books and plants and yarn, may look very different. Recognizing that the financial foundation I've built for that future may dissolve, and the social supports I rely on might disappear. Fearing that I may not see my beautiful parents and siblings for a long time, if ever again. Letting go of hopes of ever again gazing at the wonderful mountains of my childhood. Dropping the dreams of travel and further education. Looking at my sweet little one-month-old granddaughter and worrying what her future will hold. Wondering if my children's plans and hopes for themselves, that they've worked so hard for, will ever happen.

It isn't fair. It isn't right. I'm furious to the point of blind rage that someone else has chosen to ruin all of this for us. I am gaining a growing appreciation for those who have dealt with war -- who are currently dealing with it -- and who have somehow learned to move forward. It isn't the path they planned or wanted. But it's the one before them, and they're taking action in the best ways they know how. How did they let go of all that anticipating and dreaming and find the strength to deal with the present moment?

I've always had a sense that global warming and dwindling resources would impact my hopes for the future. The earth is on its own trajectory, and at some point I knew there would be a bill to pay. That life would grow increasingly tougher. But I've been blindsided by how rapidly everything has disintegrated, and it's not because of our long-suffering planet, as I presumed. It's because some people have chosen to rip apart other people's lives, out of greed and a puffed-up sense of entitlement. I hear myself muttering "It isn't fair," and realize how much I've always depended on fairness and justice prevailing. It isn't going to this time. That's a difficult pill to swallow. It's hard to get to the point where you actually acknowledge you have to let go of hope for a solution and just focus on response.

Over everything, pervading everything, I'm just sad. It didn't have to end up this way.