Rage pure and simple

When I feel a "bad" emotion coming on, in the past I would bury it, I was not allowed to express any emotions that were "bad". It was frowned upon, not lady like, beaten out of me, or just plain ignored. I learned young to suppress them. Those labelled bad included first and foremost anger. And this will be what this post is about. Oh there are many more emotions I learned were bad, but I have enough on my hands to deal with this one. When this (suppressing your natural emotion to an event, situation, etc) happens it takes a lot of training, and for some like myself, therapy, to relearn how to first feel that emotion and then to express it (correctly of course). Lately I have noticed I have a lot of anger. Well lets put this another way - lets be honest here- I am fucking filled with rage! Oh not all the time, I go through life like the rest of us, being polite, working , putting on that face for all to see. But in the core of my sorry soul there sits a ball of it just burning away. Deep in my gut, so embedded in the me of me it's reached the mitochondria of my cells probably causing the fundamental mutation, the prodromal of the fuck cancer that will most likely eat away at me. That is a lot of anger. Recent events have pushed this to the surface and so I write to examine.

I have never gotten angry at Terry for dying, I think that is really stupid, dead people aren't to be blamed for getting cancer, it's not like he asked for cancer, he didn't die on purpose to smite me! I have never gotten mad at him for leaving me, oh I am mad he's gone and I am alone, but I never got mad at him for this. I know he would not have wanted to leave me. I am mad at fuck cancer. I think it's unfair it has such a nice name, cancer, sounds soft, so lithe-like. Give it a shit name for fuck sake. Like smear-itis. But I digress. This anger comes from other incidentals like: being accused of stuff you are not guilty of; the unfairness of life in general; being ill equipped or untalented to do things you want to; asking for help; being selfish; not seeing the forest for the trees. Ad nauseum. I could go on and on about each of these in great detail, but I fear it will rachet up the anger even more.

And herein lies the rub. To feel it. To allow it, to not mask it or have as we say in the business- a reaction formation. I told you it was hard for me to express my anger. I turned it inward and became depressed instead. I didn't deal. I remember in my therapy days learning it was ok to do this. To find a healthy way to express it (punch pillows, smash glass, smash huge rocks) seems so silly at the time but fuck you should see the rocks I split. Trouble was it was like a good drunk  felt good at the time but you pay for it the next day.  I think it multiplied the anger, it brought up so much more anger I felt like I was in an abyss that I could not climb out of. I scared myself, overwhelmed my capacity to handle it all,  even in therapy with a guide I just couldn't cut it. I have tried meditation, yoga , talking to friends,  antidepressants and addiction to cigarettes and wine. Nothing has touched that core of anger inside. All it takes is a trigger and up it comes.

So what to do?  First I think this writing helps to release it. This blog is for me and for other widows and widowers who it might help as they see a reflection of their story here. So I will write and I will continue to grieve the way it happens, as it happens. I will not apologize for my journey, I will not conform to the norms of society that say move on now.  I will not be ok and healed for you, I will not smile for you bloody motherfucking assholes,  I will not feel shame for still grieving, I will heal when I heal. I will not care about the people who no longer wish to listen, this is not about you. When you have lost your soul mate then you can tell me when I can be happy or sad or depressed or joyful, when I can date other men, how I should relate to them, when I should stop dating. And of course you wouldn't  because you would understand. You would never tell me to stop hiding behind my dead husband, you would never judge me. You would know. When you have lost your love you would know. Yes some people move on and find happiness, and yes some never do. It is their journey, not yours. Yes I am angry, yes I am hurt and have hurt others, yes I am damaged. So fucking what, what are you going to do about it ?  Listen, care, run, hide, talk behind my back, hurt me, help me, hug me ?  Maybe all or none of this, just please don't tell me I can't feel this, don't tell me how to grieve or not grieve. This is my journey.