Fuck it. It’s gluten filled pizza with nitrate filled pepperoni and fatty, artery clogging cheese for supper.
Fuck it. It’s aspartame filled Diet Pepsi to wash it down and fully fake chemical 3 cheese dressing to swirl and dip and much.
Fuck it. To too many vitamins, the wrong kind of vitamins, pooping out unused vitamins and vitamins that could give you cancer.
Fuck it. I’ve been completely lulled into angry apathy by a slew of political hate ads by people I didn’t vote for in the first place.
Fuck it. People still will kill each other by driving drunk, no matter how many begging and pleading statistical articles I post.
Fuck it. I have ZERO control over how many bees die, or if my grandchildren will enjoy fruit in the future.
Fuck it. I can’t sort another item of plastic from cardboard from tin and glass without considering the total impact of every disposable diaper and plastic tampon case or piece of tinfoil I’ve ever thrown into a garbage can. Rinsing the sink after dishes feels irresponsible.
Fuck “courage” debate and Caitlyn Jenner vs. the veterans who saved lives and lost limbs.
Fuck another Kardashian pregnancy, Big Brother, The Bachelorette and the dysfunction perpetuated by pop culture.
Fuck depression. And suicide. And mental illness. And addictions. And abuse.
And fuck the ones who think they’re attention seeking, and that it isn’t real.
I’m exhausted today. LOVING THE WORLD feels REALLY HARD.
And life in the “Information Age” isn’t helping.
All my research, reading, praying, wisdom, knowledge and information seeking, attempts to sort out and find solutions. attempts at food cures, sleep tricks, grounding pillows, and energy medicine are half hearted; she just doesn’t have the sticktoitiveness to do any of it.
And who I am to judge? I can’t even walk past the reception desk without eating a handful of jelly beans.
When I am THIS tired by her depression – I cannot imagine how exhausted she is from carrying it, day and night, year after year. It terrifies me to think of the weight of it on her body, mind and spirit.
I’m angry. (not at her)
I want her to belly laugh.
And love her body.
I want her to remember wild abandon.
And to know what it feels like to have one whole day without depression.
I want her to trust that she knows.
I want her to feel deep contentment.
I want her to relax deeply.
Listen to the birds without a running commentary in the background.
I want her to feel loved.
Make love and hold hands with someone whose got her back.
I want her to feel whole.
I want her to be well. In every sense of the word.
I want her to heal and feel deep peace and calm.
I want her to have the life she deserves.
#TheWorstPartofDepressionIs watching your daughter struggle and suffer and try to stay strong.