A long time ago, I broke a guy’s heart. This is part of that story.
Author: Irene Page 24 of 44
About a week or so before my seventh birthday, my family climbed into my grandma’s gold station wagon. We were headed out to the Fair Oaks Drive-In to see this new movie everyone was talking about. It had opened on May 25, 1977, but this was the first time my mom could take us all.
I received some bad news yesterday and it crushed me.
The news probably isn’t the end of the world and in the grand scheme of things never will be, but it hit me so deep that I didn’t know any other way to react. I didn’t even feel it coming on. There was the news. Then….it just crushed me.
A little more than a year ago, I began a trek to use social media less. It is clearly evident that it makes me sad, angry, and confrontational, and puts me in a general state of despair. Studies have found it’s detrimental to your mental health and I was wondering why I do this to myself when there are clearly other, healthier things I could be doing instead.
Humans have a tendency to dilute the meaning of words over time. While language is a living thing and evolves, sometimes, the speed at which a word changes can do more harm than good. One of those words right now is “triggered.”
When most people think of the word trigger, they think of a lever on a gun or a psychological stimulus that prompts flashbacks of a traumatic experience. There is a vocal minority who has helped change the meaning of triggered, which is doing damage to people with real mental health issues. This change has come to mean people who get angry at others with opinions different to their own, someone who is upset or annoyed at a person, place, or thing, or hearing or experiencing something you don’t like.
Being triggered is not something I would choose. If those that have warped the meaning of the word could experience what being triggered and the ensuing flashback are really like, I highly doubt they would choose it either.
Stretched out on the couch
I’m kept warm
under a comfy snowflake blanket
on a chilly evening
when the rains came
A big horn sheep at Hubbard’s Gap.
Before Steve and I even got out of his truck we could see them. They were several hundred yards to the north of us. Steve and I grabbed our gear. We made small talk about our choice of clothing that day. I chose my black t-shirt. I was cold now, but in an hour, I’d be warm enough. Steve had on his red sweatshirt and and a goofy knit cap to keep his head warm. He was warm now. We also knew he’d be plenty hot in an hour.
I sometimes forget that my 300mm lens really isn’t that big, especially when you put it next to his 500mm lens. Ovis Canadensis was on our radar today. It would be the first time I would ever see the Rocky Mountain Big Horn sheep in person and the pictures were worth the wait.