The Struggle

The picture below is tonight’s entry in a daily journal of sorts I try keep up with on my phone. I keep most of my entries short and simple. Nothing like the dissertations contained within this blog. There are often no epiphanies or anything eye-opening or ground-breaking. Usually just a few words about my day. About how I’m feeling. Maybe a picture I took that day and/or a picture that captures my day or mood. My hurt. My struggle(s). I often have nothing much to say (hence my laziness RE: keeping up with this blog) because my days are usually pretty empty, uneventful, and not filled with much activity or social interaction. Succinctly: I often don’t have much to write home about. A good many of my entries (in an app called Day One; Apple iOS link: https://appsto.re/us/ESRiz.isimply) just say, “SSDD.” 

When my dad was alive and I would ask him how his day was, 95% of the time he would answer with, “SSDD.” – an acronym for Same Shit, Different Day. That’s how I feel most days. And I think I now have a greater understanding that that’s probably how my dad often felt too. My dad was blunt (but never intentionally mean or spiteful about it) and he was not one to sugarcoat the truth. Which I didn’t mind. I probably even loved it though I don’t think I came to truly appreciate and admire that trait in him until after he passed and I became old enough to understand the value of true honesty and realized I am much the same way. He was just being honest. Ditto. I am so much like my father. My mom says that to me a lot: “You’re so much like your father.” I know for sure that she says it out of spite and resentment for all the perceived wrongs done/being done to her (by my dad and myself). I know she means it as an insult. She doesn’t know I always take it as a compliment and I try not to beam and try to stifle a smile in front of her after she says that to me, grateful that I take after my father more than I take after my mother (in more ways than one). Thank god.

 

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