Ongoing

Uncomfortable. Rage. Helpless.

The feelings course through me as I watch people I love face internal demons, their own bodies repeatedly betraying them. I watch as a spasm crosses my father's face, as he tries to hide the involuntary twitch of his leg. His expression forcibly smoothed, a brief grimace forced into a smile. After so many years, he's not blind to the uncomfortable expressions on others faces, their poorly shielded pity obvious as their eyes dart around the room. I stare back, keeping the biting edge of my anger quelled beneath a reassuring smile of my own. Accustomed to watching one thing after another attempt to eat at my father's determination.

Acceptance is not always the antidote to rage.