And out of the swirling mess...

I'm feeling better today. The "edge of a headache" feeling is pretty much gone. I'm still a little scattered, but somewhat more collected.

One of the ways I self-treat my headaches is caffeine. Those who know me know that you won't see me eating much chocolate (I make an exception in bad weather for a cup or two of hot chocolate, homemade mostly), drinking coffee or cola, or usually even drinking a non-herbal tea. I save it for when I really need it - nothing attacks my headaches quite like coffee, provided I only drink the stuff when I need it. Unfortunately, as I tried to get rid of the headache yesterday, I had too much, so I ended up staying up later than I should.

While up so late, I took a personality test based on Myers-Briggs test and came out INFP, supposedly a pretty rare type, given to perfectionism and (big surprise) imaginative thinking, as well as (even bigger surprise here) mysticism. Supposedly also the shadow type to most politicians. Now, according to Jung, each personality type has a "shadow" type - an opposite; and types tend to see the worst in their shadow types and perhaps even bring it out. And the thought floats though... perhaps that is one of the certainties I've been clinging to, that I am Right and They are Wrong.

I have been, and still am terribly angry. I'm angry that this hideous war was fostered on the public by carefully cultivated lies. I'm angry that my dad is going while Bush's daughters go drinking in South America. I'm angry that we haven't even bothered to properly outfit our soldiers. (You don't send people into a desert in green camo armor, or into a war zone unarmored.)

I'm angry that our traditions of democracy, inherited from the old English kings who pledged to uphold certain rights, sometimes voluntarily, sometimes at swordpoint (yeah, I know it's fashionable to attribute our democracy to the Greeks, but our trial system, our writ system, and our system of putting a monetary value on injury are nearly direct descendants of rules that were in place already by the time of William the Bastard of Normandy, and those that weren't were put in place by his money-grubbing grandson who would have taxed moonlight if he could have worked out how to do it) have been openly disregarded in a manner worthy of bad old King John. (Who really took blame for some stuff that his brother did, but was still awful in his own right.)

I could go on... but have I been clinging to that sword so tightly that it's cutting me? Is it time to work on letting go of that fury, not for Bush's sake, but for my own? Is this part of selling certainty to buy bewilderment? I don't know. I do know that lurking under the anger is a deep sadness, an ocean of tears - for my dad, for everyone caught up in the conflict, for the families that have been changed forever by war.

I know also that despite Pentagon assertions to the contrary, there aren't many support programs for the families of deployed soldiers, particularly families that don't fit the mold. Adult children? Forget it. Family members that support the soldiers but not the war? Forget it. Little kid who misses Daddy? Here's a teddy bear in a BDU for you kid, and a support group for your mom. Need more? Forget it. It makes me angry and sad at the same time.

I don't know.