**This post contains profanity. Sorry, grandma** 

Ever since I was a kid, I felt guilty if a “bad word” left my lips. I was raised in a conservative, religious household. We were not to use naughty words. As I got older, I continued with this philosophy, for my own reasons. To me, vulgar language is a little bit tacky. I don’t use this kind of language in everyday conversation. There are usually different words that can get the point across. However, over the last year, I have found that some circumstances just call for some curse words. And on days like today, I find these words coming to the forefront of my mind over and over again. Sometimes it is just appropriate. For example…. 

My life feels really shitty sometimes. 

How can this be my fucking life?! 

How the fuck could you think it’s funny to say, “Here, want mine?” and pretend to offer me your children?

Fuck anyone who takes their kids for granted. 

Can everyone please just stop getting pregnant and having boys? Is that too much to fucking ask?! 

What happened to my son is fucked up. 

I am so tired of feeling like shit. 

How the hell can anyone expect that I should be better? 

Am I really going to feel this way for the rest of my life?….Fuck. 

Here’s the thing: I still don’t love these words. Especially that big one: that F-Bomb. Over the last 14 months, I have had angry days. But they haven’t made me lose my temper and use these profanities. This week, though, I can’t seem to stop it. And I shouldn’t. If you’re angry, holding it in is the last thing you should do. I have noticed that the loss community is full of strong, Godly women. Somehow, through all of this pain, most of us still believe. Most of us still have faith. But sometimes, I really just want to say to God, “How the fuck could You let this happen?!” Sometimes I want to scream at Him. Sometimes I need to yell and sob. I need to curse at the sky and at the world around me for being so utterly clueless to my suffering. Now and then, that guilt from my childhood comes creeping back. I think God is pretty understanding. Other people might not be so understanding, but fuck them 🙂 

*I painted this on a really angry day. I ended up giving it away as a gift because it’s not exactly the kind of art that belongs on my wall at home. But the process of making it did its job. I used a large, heavy paintbrush and lathered that canvas with dark paint, put some letters on it, and then lathered it with light. Sometimes you just have to let that anger out. 

*This tiger is also the product of angry days. I was in a terrible mood when I started painting him, and I hated him all the way until the final details. Then suddenly, I fell in love. He ended up being my first piece of art sold to someone else.