Some writers and psychologists have questioned President Donald Trump’s mental health. He appears to be a compulsive liar. He has visions of grandiosity. Trump is volatile and combative. I do think he has some psychological issues.

But what about the anxiety and despair so many of us are feeling about his election? What about our mental health?

A friend recently sent me an amusing video about “Trump-Induced Anxiety Disorder.” It’s a fictitious malady, of course … and yet, it is more realistic than most of what the Trump administration has said about anything in the past two months.

This parody of a pharmaceutical ad asks if viewers are depressed and hopeless. Are they having panic attacks? Suffering insomnia? Are we finding ourselves yelling at our phones and computer screens?

Uh, yes, yes and yes.

In fact, when a chronic (although relatively harmless) medical condition that I have flared up in November, I dubbed it Trumpitis.

I knew, from talking with friends and colleagues, and reading my Facebook feed, that I was not the only one feeling jittery. But this video made it all the more real.

The cure proposed in the film involves taking “Impeachara,” a medication that convinces users Trump already has been impeached. This drug would allow us to walk blissfully among the daisies once again.

I would gladly dose myself if I could. In lieu of that, I’ve found other methods of coping as best I can.

My most straightforward way is to make sure I meditate regularly. I have been meditating a long time. When I was in college, my boyfriend encouraged me to undergo Transcendental Meditation training. Surprisingly, my parents agreed. Maybe it was because his folks were even more devoutly Catholic than we were; i.e. they sent five kids through parochial school. So if they let my boyfriend do it and he survived, then it was OK for me.

Plus, I was one anxiety-ridden little dudette. They probably were desperate.

Anyway, I know TM has a reputation for being, if not a cult, at least cultlike, but everyone was cordial (perhaps a bit robotic, but let’s not go there) and they did not try to recruit me to walk through airports banging a tambourine and begging for donations.

In addition to learning meditation, I also took an extracurricular yoga class from one of the Dominican Friars at Providence College, which I was attending.

I have found, over the years, that these two practices help me to relax.

But there have been times when they have not been enough, such as now. So I have added viewing photos and videos of owls and baby goats to my arsenal of stress-relief activities.

I’m not even embarrassed to admit that.

I used to lovingly disparage my husband, Paul, for interrupting my reading and aimless Internet wanderings to show me cute animal videos. Often they came from a site called “The Dodo.” I remember saying, “It’s called the Dodo because it’s stupid!”

I’m sorry, Paul.

When a video of baby goats cavorting in pajamas appeared on my Facebook feed. I was entranced, especially since their attire was described as “pyjamas,” in the British style.

Then a compilation film of even-toed ungulate kids showed up. It was like a message from the Almighty. “Watch these goats and ye shall be free from pain. For at least five minutes.”

I laughed out loud. I watched it again. I shared it with my Facebook friends.

Baby goats are delightful for several reasons. They have knees, and horizontal pupils. They gambol about and jump over and on top of each other, like oversized puppies. They are curious, so they are ever-ready to approach a photographer.

It’s enough adorableness to erase all thoughts of spying microwaves from your brain — until you next read the news.

I’ve been fond of owls for quite some time. Owls are the symbol of wisdom. They are inscrutable. They have huge eyes.

And, apparently, they like people. Dogs, too. Did you know you can wash and blow-dry an owl?

I have to admit that I’m annoyed when these owl videos don’t include an explanation of why the owl is cuddling up with a dog. I assume these are owls raised in captivity, or they have to live among humans and their pets because of an injury.

But I don’t stay mad for long.

A friend just messaged me that she is loving the owl videos. She is, perhaps, more liberal than I am. When I repost owls and baby goats, I include this statement: “Owls and baby goats, my refuge from the disaster of the Trump administration and other daily stressors.”

Tough times require us to take care of ourselves in the best way we can. Maa!

Liz Soares welcomes e-mail at [email protected]