Marsh
Marsh

This originally started out as a column about exercise and booze. It was supposed to be a witty take on people who love work as much as they love play, those who regularly run 5 miles in the morning and finish off a bottle of pinot noir at night.

I have spent a lifetime dealing with the traumas and trials of the world by anesthetizing myself with either alcohol or exercise or both.

But in this new reality that we are faced with, I've found that neither of my coping mechanisms is working the way it should. And I gotta admit, I'm not sure I can take another week like this one. Yo world, I'm talking to you. Cool it.

When neither chardonnay nor endorphins can help me sleep at night, you know something is up. And if you happen to be a sentient being in this world, in this moment, then you know that something is indeed up.

Where do we start?

Sometimes I feel as though I'm banging my head against a wall that is spray painted with the slogans "America first," "All Lives Matter" and "pro-life." Meanwhile, people with life-threatening illnesses are facing the loss of their medical care, refugees and other international residents are scared to be here or desperate to get here before they are turned away, NGOs that help impoverished women around the globe will lose their funding if they dare to offer abortion services, Muslims are being targeted by crazy nationalists and by government officials who have allowed xenophobia through executive order, and we talk about putting guns in the hands of our kindergarten teachers and selling national parks to the highest bidder.


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Through it all, there is a pervading mandate of silence. If we don't talk about it, then it's not a problem.

So what to do?

There are no answers here. My biggest fear is that we will never be able to break through that wall of rationality. That we, as a country, will never be able to land together on the side of common decency.

I feel helpless and hopeless. And I don't know what to do. So I drink a shit ton of wine; and I run in the bright, brisk, fresh air until my lungs hurt; and I tell my friends I love them; and I show up when they ask for my support.

It's not enough. What is? Where do we start?

Read more Marsh: coloradodaily.com/columnists