Some days are just fucking hard.

All days have their challenges, some small, some massive, and a variety in between. And I do believe that no challenge is insurmountable, even if the solution requires complex or unusual approaches.

But some days really are just fucking hard.

It’s my mother’s birthday today. On the one hand, I don’t really get why that bothers me. She hasn’t sent whiny messages about my ignoring her birthday in a few years; it’s not a triggering day in that way like Mother’s Day or Christmas or my own birthday. Or the whole month that my daughter’s birthday takes place in, where I wait on tenterhooks for the latest attempt to claim some right to a place in my daughter’s world, and therefore in mine – because she doesn’t know her exact birthdate. On the other hand, well, of course it bothers me. It’s a full day’s reminder of the stark contrast between how things are and how they used to be. That awareness is omnipresent at a low thrum for me, but days like today pull it front and center.

I don’t want to dwell, or write, about how this day used to be. I don’t want to highlight those details. I don’t find it helpful, at least not right now. If that’s avoidance, so be it. It’s been years of meeting my pain head-on; I figure I’m allowed to indulge in a little avoidance every once in awhile. Sometimes it’s difficult to put into words why a day that should be inconsequential just doesn’t feel that way. Lord knows I’m never short of things to say; I’m too loquacious for my own good.

But some days are fucking hard. Full stop.

(P.S. The title of this post is a reference to a Sandra Boynton illustration that is super cute, but I think I would violate copyright of some kind if I uploaded it. I encourage you to Google it if you are unfamiliar with the reference, it’s adorable…and might make your day just a little less fucking hard, who knows.)