Shock Doesn't Make an Appearance Anymore.

I've always had challenges labeling my emotions, especially the subtler, more nuanced feelings. Titles like aggravation, anticipation, envy and amusement are not easily accessible on my emotional bookshelf, so I've been working on that. I try to be mindful in anxious situations, to think about what I'm thinking about prior to allowing myself to escalate into that popular loop of fear, anger and shame. Despite those efforts the cycle is triggered every time a mass shooting occurs. 

Fear predictably floods in first. Thoughts of my family. Could this could happen at the elementary school where my wife teaches? Or at my daughter's college, or the high school where my other daughter coaches? 

I know the answer. The fear has a purity, a validity, now a familiarity. It's not the childish terror of an imaginary bogie man who enters when the lights go out. It's the fear of a real one who bursts in and destroys the world a little before noon on a Tuesday. 

As I lie in bed, I think about people like Ted Cruz and Greg Abbott. I wonder how they can live with themselves and what are they thinking about right now. Do they actually believe what they say or is it an act?  I conclude that Ted does believe it because he's a narcissistic douchebag with no conscience. Now it's anger's turn, time for dark sentiments to bury the fear. 

Finally, all that's left is the shame. We're all pretty good at that one, right? It's something we bestow on ourselves and each other with such regularity. In this case, we will share it, again.