Days Like This

What do you do when you worry about getting your emotionally and verbally abusive father what he wants for Father’s Day (even though he has heaped boatloads of cripplingly terrible words upon you this past year, you know, the one that made you want to take your own life already because of your severe depression) because hey, he’s been a shitty dad, well, forever and why should that be celebrated when everything, everything, is always your fault and he’d probably complain about how you got the wrong thing anyway and how do you cope when your depression seems to be slowly creeping back and you feel powerless to stop it when you lie awake at night and try not to weep and how  do you deal with the fact that everywhere you turn there are atrocities happening and people are being shot or forced into being sex slaves or being abused in a myriad of horrific ways (and hey, all those stories of abuse are bringing back some shit that you thought you were over but it looks like yeah, no, not so much) and how do you deal with the people you love losing loved ones or having to have emergency surgery or struggling with mental health issues or dealing with illness and the fact that today you heard about someone having to bury their 2 day old because the doctors couldn’t fix their tiny heart and you feel like there is a growing pit in your stomach of rage and sadness because the world feels horrific and full of despair and just plain cruel and you are utterly powerless to do anything about it.

What do you do. What do you fucking do. Because my mother never said there’d be days like this.