I snapped today. Really SNAPPED. Over nothing. A co-worker, bless her heart, asked me if I wanted green tea or black. And I just… lost it. Told her it didn't MATTER, just give me whatever was CLOSEST. Her face, you guys. She looked like I’d slapped her. And I wanted to just curl up and disappear right there. The shame is just… heavy. So heavy. It’s Dad, you know? It always comes back to Dad. He had a bad day. Which means I had a bad day. Spilled his drink all over the floor, then got agitated because I didn't clean it fast enough, then agitated because I was cleaning it too fast. Said I was rushing him. Called me inconsiderate. I spent an hour trying to get him comfortable again, trying to soothe him, trying to just… breathe. After he finally fell asleep, I came into my studio and just stared at the blank canvas. Nothing. My mind is just blank. How am I supposed to create anything, anything at all, when my brain feels like a chewed-up sponge? All my best ideas used to come when things were quiet, when I could just sit and think and doodle. Now there’s just… noise. All the time. I know she didn't deserve it. My co-worker. She’s nice. She usually asks about my pottery. Says she likes my bowls. She probably thinks I'm a complete monster now. And maybe I am. Sometimes I just feel like I'm breaking into a million little pieces and there's no glue left to hold me together. I always wanted to be an artist, you know? Just really live for my art. My whole life. And now I’m 60, almost, and all I do is wipe spills and make sure Dad doesn’t get bedsores. What am I even doing with my life? This isn't how I pictured it. Not at all. And I just… I feel so guilty. I really do.