I Came Here to Write About Dogs. Now I’m Monitoring a Man’s Cognitive Decline.

When I started this blog, the plan was simple.

Witty observations about everyday obstacles.

Light topics.

Fun things.

You know, breast cancer.

Working as a leader in tech.

Layoffs.

Managing through change

Reinventing myself in middle age.

My dogs.

Normal, breezy material!

I did not sign up to become an unpaid, non-American crisis correspondent for the mental health spiral of Donald Trump.

And yet. Here we are.

I am literally having a Trump burnout!

Somehow this blog has turned into a daily attempt to process one “what the actual fuck!?” moment after another, as one deeply unwell man sets off geopolitical, social, and moral smoke bombs like it’s a hobby.

I wake up, drink coffee, open the news, and immediately regret all my life choices.

Again.

I don’t even live in the U.S.

I don’t get a vote.

I don’t get a voice in the system.

But I do have eyes. And a brain. And a rapidly depleting supply of patience.

So yes, I talk about it. Because pretending this is “just American politics” is cute if you enjoy denial as a lifestyle choice.

What’s happening right now is not a local problem.

It’s a global warning label, flashing in neon, screaming “THIS AFFECTS ALL OF YOU.”

Still. Let’s be honest.

This is exhausting.

I am deeply, profoundly Trump-burned-out.

Not “I’m bored” burned out.

More like “my nervous system would like a small vacation and possibly a blanket” burned out. Constant outrage is not a sustainable fuel source, even when the outrage is fully justified.

So no, I won’t be quiet.

That’s not happening.

Silence has a terrible track record.

But I might occasionally step back.

Take a breath.

Pet a dog.

Write about menopause or grief or the absurdity of modern work culture instead of the daily collapse of democratic norms.

Then I’ll be back.

Because someone has to keep pointing at the fire and saying, “No, actually, this is not fine.”

Even if I originally came here to talk about dogs.

And the small stuff.