A Pandemic of Rage

I am tired. And I am angry. Livid in fact. Filled with rage. My rage isn’t more important than anyone else’s, it isn’t as pressing as some, nor as poignant as others, but it is mine, and it is real.

I’m fortunate — in many ways — and I acknowledge that. I work from home, I’m not the primary breadwinner, my husband’s job is safe, no one in my family has gotten sick, I live in a small community, in a big house, with lots of space…