It is not you. It is ... him!

Until tRump's election, most of us went about our days, getting our news in bits and pieces from the newspapers, the news segments on television, and from radio.  We had no idea how much time we had to spend on our own lives.  We were practically selfish in the pursuit of life, liberty, and happiness.

And then came tRump.

He has taken over our lives.

A year ago, I wrote that resistance is bloody exhausting.

A couple of days ago, when remarking on a NY Times report on Syria, I commented that "We used to read about the rest of the world, too, until #tRump came and sucked all the oxygen from us!"

I am relieved, and glad, that I am not alone in feeling so.

Matt Ford has written an essay on this!

Wasting time is a defining feature of Trump’s presidency. He is fairly adept at frittering away his own days, spending an indeterminate number of hours languishing in front of the television, simply to watch cable news coverage of himself so he can then offer comments about it on Twitter. But when it comes to wasting the time of everyone around him, the president is without peer. Trump’s haphazard style of governance forces journalists, lawyers, and government officials to expend innumerable hours on doomed initiatives and errant tweets. His corrosive effect on American politics forces Americans to devote far more hours of their life to thinking about him than they should. All of this amounts to a tax of sorts on the national psyche—one that can never be repaid.
Human lives are bounded by time and attention. Every moment that’s spent focused on one thing can’t be spent another way.

We can't ignore him--he is, after all, the President of the United States.  Which is why now even tiny Denmark is miffed!  And now even the Danes have to be ever more watchful for what the dictator tweets.

He talks. He tweets. And then he is off golfing while the rest of us are writing to our elected officials, or helping sue the government, or participating in marches while making sure we won't get shot, ...

Trump, of course, pays his own tax freely. He largely spends his days as president in unstructured “executive time” where he fields calls from outside advisers and ingests massive quantities of raw Fox News coverage. The work of solving the nation’s problems, except insofar as it rallies his supporters and keeps him in office, is a largely secondary concern. Soon after Trump took office, White House aides tried to persuade him that the national debt would become unsustainable in the future. “Yeah, but I won’t be here,” he reportedly replied. Trump’s time may be limited, but so is ours.

To use Wayne Tracker's words, what a "fucking moron!"

Dahlia Lithwick, who has been working in an overdrive these past couple of years, warns us (and herself too) against yielding to the "tRump fatige syndrome" because "the real jeopardy of authoritarianism starts with fatigue."

Moral seriousness seems to require being aware enough of the chaos everywhere that you accept being punched in the mouth with it every day.       
The email I have received most often this summer goes something like this: “I am doing too much. I am not doing enough.” The same can be said for all of us. Self-care in the form of manicures and time with the kids isn’t making a dent in it. And if one stops to think about the cumulative effect of gerrymandering, election interference, vote suppression, and a president signaling that he will not concede even if he loses in 2020, pinning all hopes in the next election feels one notch more sanguine than we can afford to be.         

I want to look away. I want to live like how I did before the 63 million gave the nuclear codes to a psychopath.

Cold comfort perhaps, but if you don’t feel that you are losing your damn mind, something would be profoundly wrong with you.
We are all doing too much. And we are all also not doing enough. And there is nothing wrong with you, beyond being a human being in categorically insane times.

And then I read this essay.  I am now wondering whether I should write to my Senators about this.  I need to remind myself that  "the real jeopardy of authoritarianism starts with fatigue."