I spent today not looking at Facebook. It was too much.
Truthfully, I don’t know what to write. I had a very different post planned for this week. I spent a couple of hours on Saturday writing it, and it was good. I was excited to share. And then I woke up this morning to a nondescript New York Times update on my phone about a “club shooting in Orlando.”
I braced myself for the thing that happens when people shoot other people in America: politicians start talking about me. Well, not me, but mental illness. I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder a little less than three years ago, and there’s nothing like a mass shooting to get people talking about my health care.
I logged onto Facebook and I did find people talking about me. Well, not me, but people like me. Queer people.