Wednesday, at Internet beats 170, nighttime

I’ve been worried about my health lately and wishing for more real social contact—more talking, more sharing, more steady voices. Caring for an autistic elder is a daily struggle, especially while managing my own chronic condition. I’m grateful that I speak with a counselor often; her voice of reason cuts through my delusions and poor judgment. The meditation service helps too, giving my mind a little breathing room. Still, I can’t shake this feeling of impending misfortune waiting outside the house. Sometimes it slips in anyway and drags me down. Staying plugged into the bad‑news channels only feeds that heaviness. Even so, I keep writing with my extra‑fine point and Japanese ink, trying to steady myself word by word. In moments like these, I remind myself that clarity, connection, and calm are not distant hopes but practices I return to again and again.