God damn it

God damn it and what the fuck and why? Tonight I have faced off with my deepest sorrow and emerged feeling nothing but rage. This shit is so profoundly unfair. Mind you not unfair in the self pitying sense but more in the righteous indignation type of way. I've never been one to sit around thinking oh poor me, I simply play the hand I've been dealt despite what losing cards they may be. Tonight however I'm feeling the rage, like who the fuck deals those cards anyway, and what did I ever do to them. I'm utterly displeased with my hand tonight and I feel I've the right to be pissed. To come from poverty is a handicap in this world, fight as you might you are likely to always be poor. Poor people are second class citizens. To be born a woman is a handicap in this world, fight as you might you will never be equal to men. Women are second class citizens. To possess a compassionate heart, an intelligent mind or an artists soul are handicaps in this world, fight as you might you will always be different than rather than one amung. The unique are second class citizens. What do I care to be a first class citizen anyway. I'd rather be down here in the trenches, fighting the good fight, living paycheck to paycheck, being a strong independent woman, intelligent, creative and loving. I give my all every day to fight on the frontlines and here comes my brain disease to shit all over my well intentioned efforts. It's not enough to be handicapped by second class citizenery oh no I must also be disabled with a dibilitating brain disease. What do I care to be abled anyway. I'd rather be down here in the trenches, fighting the good fight, living day to day, being a brave introspective woman, educated, inspired and forgiving. I give my all every day to fight on the frontlines and all it takes is one slip up in the routine to bring it all crashing in around me. As the rain falls mercilessly around me I dwell in my cave and cry. What breaks my heart today are the unrelenting challenges of life I feel I've been inadequately prepared to handle. The bumper abruptly falls off your car. The sink is clogged. The sheets need changed but the laundry isn't done. Your dog shits on the floor because you couldn't get out of bed to take her for a walk. The paycheck won't begin to cover the stack of bills. You need to go grocery shopping but it's pissing rain outside. Normal people do this shit EVERY DAY. You are not normal. By which I mean I am not normal. The best I can muster on days like this are a few ounces of self care and a couple dashes of self love. Chocolate ice cream in the middle of the afternoon, dinner with parents who love me, the kind words of a friend, coffee with a sister who lets me cry on her shoulder for as long as I may need to. These are my saving graces. I try to forgive myself for being such an incompetent mess on days such as these, for even soldiers require rest. The honest truth is, however, that I am so angry on such a fundamental level I could write for days and never even scratch the surface. The honest truth is that I struggle with this disease I'll never be free of and I have to be a creative, intuitive, intelligent, loving woman just to begin to try to dig my way out of this well. I am grateful to be the woman I am but god damn it and what the fuck and why?