Living virtually alone, since even when my husband is in town he is usually out of the house, I have habitually turned on the TV to stay connected to the world, hear some voices other than my own, and have a few canned laughs with Frasier or Ray Romano. But lately the box has become nothing more than a dispenser of fear; turn it on and right away you are advised to worry -- about mesothelioma, hair loss, advancing dementia, sudden heart attack, fading libido, gastric distress, robbery, the falling dollar, the rising temperatures, deafness, arthritis, depression, insomnia, children born with no upper lip, dogs and cats suffering from abuse or that growing bugaboo, identity theft.
And those are just the commercials.
Under the guise of news, the editorial content pushes the dark side even more: The advance of ISIS, violent tornadoes wiping out entire communities, dead veterans, living veterans with PTSD, global starvation, rioting in racially-unstable American cities, trigger-happy cops and egregious wrongdoings by Hillary Clinton or Jeb Bush, depending on which station you're watching.
Today I hit the wall. That's it. No more manipulation by unseen forces. If I'm going to be manipulated, it's going to happen in person. Retreating into my art-infested cocoon, I will from this day forward forgo all brain poison. Right now I will vacuum my dining room rug, which has needed it for some time, and then go to a Feldenkreis class to realign my body parts and hopefully restore my natural high.
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