MS and Anger

Today is Thursday.  Yesterday it was two weeks since my Multiple Sclerosis diagnosis on May 19th. Physically, I feel a bit better today than I did yesterday and still better than the day before that, but emotionally yesterday was really, really tough.

Last night I finally cried.  It wasn’t as intense as I expected it to be, but it sure sucked.  I’ve basically been deeply angry (still am) for two weeks, ever since my diagnosis.  Just absolutely fucking furious!  (I will not apologize for my language as I write these entries.  If you’re sensitive, get over it.)  I’m managing to keep it together for the most part, but I started feeling chinks in my well-composed armor a few days ago and understood that the floodgates were about to open, so I was simultaneously prepared and caught off-guard.  Maybe the emotional release of last night isn’t over.  Maybe that was just the start of a larger, more intense one, but at least I was able to let some of it out.

I’ve never been suicidal.  Ever.  I’ve been self-destructive, yes, but never suicidal.  And believe me, if I had ever been, I would not be here right now.  But last night the thought hit me like a truck: I hate my life!  It was so intense, and – from where I thought I was within my own head space – so completely out of nowhere that I suddenly started thinking about what it might be like to just not be here anymore.  Except, in the very same thought – these two thoughts were basically on top of one another – I remembered all the billions of reasons why I would never ever do that.  It isn’t me, and it isn’t fear…it’s my people.  There are too many people that I care too deeply about to ever put them through the pain they’d go through if I were to be selfish enough to take my own life.  For example, I remember what it was to be a young teenager without a mother and would never intentionally put my kids through that pain.  THAT in itself is reason enough, but there are so many more.  So, those thoughts rolling over and around one another in the same millisecond inside my flawed brain were what threw the gates open and allowed the waterworks to start.

Then hubby brought Booker (our 20lb weirdo of a black cat) to me because he’s squishy and sweet and made me feel a bit better.  Then hubby and I sat together, and I relayed some of my thoughts to him.  Not the suicide part.  Not just then.  Because I was mortified that the thought had even crossed my mind, so I eliminated that part from our conversation.  But the anger came through.

Today, now, I still feel very, very fragile emotionally.  And now I have to go to work and try to concentrate but I can’t, and I have so much to do.  I’m waiting for the neurologist to get back to me about whether or not I need another round of steroid infusions and that’s taking longer than I’d like, so I’m frustrated.  I’ll be calling them this afternoon if I don’t hear from them this morning. For now, I’m going to do the next thing. Whatever that next thing is.  Start to finish.  All day long.  And then it will be time for me to go home and do the next thing there.  Step by step, little by little, I will get though this, but right now, there is too much.

TTFN
JMS

Pouring my heart out -OR- Feeling sorry for myself

I'm trying to get back into the swing of things…like actually writing occasionally, even though I really don't want to because the words don’t come like they used to.

It used to be that I could be doing something normal and mundane and a sentence or a thought or a snippet of a story would pop into my head and I would turn it over and over until I finally got someplace where I could write it down so I wouldn't forget it.  Now, those sentences, thoughts, and snippets are quiet.

I'm OK with it, really, though I do miss the creativity.

I'm kinda broken right now and I don't know how to fix myself.  Oh, yeah – outwardly no one would really know anything is wrong, but my family does.  My husband feels it.  My kids feel it.  So I try - I really do try - but I fail.  A lot.  I try to be OK for them, but how can I be OK for them when I’m not OK for me?

So I push forward one day at a time.  One restless, more-often-than-not sleepless, night at a time.  And I get up the next day when my alarm goes off, because, let's face it…if I don't, I'm not getting up at all.  So the alarm starts yelling at me and I get up, I shower, I brush my teeth and dry my hair and make sure I’m wearing clean clothes.  And I go to work and get through my day with as much professionalism as I can muster and even that is hard, though I love my job.

I love my family.

And there are so many things that I need that I'm not getting.  And it's hard to know I'm responsible for teaching these lessons which once taught, need to be retaught and retaught and retaught until I'm so frustrated I could scream.  What am I doing wrong?

And, I don't know how to get a certain person to understand that lying and manipulation are not the ways to get what you want and that no means no, it doesn’t mean argue about it until I'm so worn out I finally just don't care anymore or remember the reason I said no in the first place and now they feel like they’ve won and I've taught them no lesson at all.

And, I don't know how to get a certain other person to understand that laziness doesn’t mean eventually I will do it because I'm sick of looking at it.  It means that if I do it, you’re going to lose it permanently and then you're really going to be unhappy. 

Or, if I take the time to do your laundry and you dump what I've carefully washed, dried, folded, and left on your bed for you to put away in an unfolded heap on top of your dresser or shoved into drawers in a wrinkled mess and then you say to me, "I didn't know!" or "At least they're in the drawer," and then you get mad at me when I hold your clothes hostage and tell you that you can have one outfit back for every ten minutes you work in your room (because to me, that's clever and a great way to teach a lesson) and you call me and my methods stupid and unfair and are hateful to me and cry thinking it's going to change my mind.  How about I just don't ever do your laundry for you?  I'm not above making you go to school naked.  (Ok, not that last thing…)

And, I don't know how to get a certain other person to understand I need them to actually talk to me, tell me what's going on and give me a game plan so I don't feel like I'm flying blind all the time and then have them get mad at me when I am unable to read their mind.  Or, how about just helping around the house on a regular basis instead of watching television all day?  That would be awesome, too.

I'm feeling used and angry and kind of like wrung out wet socks…

So, I guess the words do come, but they're not particularly nice words right now. 

And yeah, I guess if you want to you can pray for me or light a candle for me or send a healing word or two out into the ether for me – and that's all wonderful, and I am grateful for them – but I need real help.  The kind of help words just don't cover.

Am I feeling sorry for myself?  Maybe a little bit.  Am I walking around with a chip on my shoulder feeling resentful and angry more often than not?  Absolutely.  Am I taking it out on those around me because I don't feel like anyone cares enough to ask me what's wrong and then DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT when I tell them what's bothering me?  Most likely.  

I know.  I suck right now.  And I'm sorry.

TTFN

JMS

Random Rant *or* Angry At The World

I know when someone is mad at me.  I may not always understand the reasons why, but I have no doubt I messed up somewhere.  I just wish, when I've hurt or offended someone in some way, they’d tell me what I've done.  If I don’t know what I’ve done to hurt you, I can’t make it right.  It bothers me deeply to know I've hurt someone, but not know how or why.  I dislike hurting people, immensely, and I certainly don’t wake up in the morning and think, “Hm…who can I mess with today?”  And please don’t tell me, “You know what you did!” expecting me to know, because half the time I can’t remember my own name and the other half I can’t remember what I had for dinner the night before.  I’m not trying to be flippant, or glib, but I think we’d all be much better off if we communicated with one another; especially when an offense is involved.

Hubby seems to think I worry too much about people being mad at me.  When I ask, “Are you mad at me?” he gets upset and says, “Why do you always think you’re the one I’m upset with?” Mainly because he’s always mad at me for one thing or another (that's marriage, I guess) but also because body language speaks volumes and the silent treatment doesn't usually happen unless there’s an issue.

But here's the current issue that's plaguing me: I don’t understand all this anger I've got within myself right now.  I’m FURIOUS AT EVERYTHING!  I’m trying not to be.  I’m making a concerted effort to speak kindly or at least politely.  Counting to ten when I feel myself on auto-response and leaning toward pissed off.  I’m trying to temper…uh…my temper.  I’m trying to clear my mind of all the nasty things rolling around inside of me, without much luck. 

The other day, I was drinking a nice glass of white wine from a lovely winery in Townsend, TN (Cades Cove Winery).  I don’t remember exactly what else I was doing – cleaning, I think – but I was so angry!  Everything I saw, everything I touched just made me mad.  I was slamming around and snapping at everyone.  My poor family was hiding from me.  Eventually, hubby confiscated my glass of wine (which made me mad) and replaced it with a large mug of freshly-brewed chamomile tea (which confused me, and pleased me all at the same time).  I guess it was bedtime for Bonzo.  

I’m still mad.  I still want to lash out.  I don’t feel like being pleasant and friendly.  I want to rail against the universe and I can’t understand why.  Folks may say it's grief talking, which is a possibility, though I think probably unlikely.  Or the depression which has been setting in for a while now and which I’m fighting tooth and nail.  Which is probably why I’m angry.  But it doesn't matter.

And, since we were just discussing cleaning while angry, I need to say I would very much like to get one of those small bobcat bulldozer thingies and ‘doze everything (EVERYTHING) out of my house and start over.

TTFN
JMS