I’m finding it hard to write about anger.
I knew how to be angry, how to use it to keep going, and even how to direct it toward threats; but I didn’t sit down one day after being misdiagnosed and decide to get angry for all the benefits.
Anger was a reaction to a series of events that left me feeling almost hopeless. It’s an emotion that was hard for me to control. I let it consume me and affect many aspects of my life.
Somewhere between anger and depression, there was a great deal of self pity. Even though it was always tempered by the fact that my illness was not life-threatening, and I was learning too much about life-threatening illnesses to ignore the blessing, my pity and anger brought me to hurt people on occasion.
This is why it’s hard to write about. I feel awful for hurting people and embarrassed that I acted so disgusting some days.
I didn’t physically lash out. In some cases I was judgemental, in others plain mean, and most of the time my lack of interaction either directly or indirectly hurt friends and family. I carried a portable electric fence in my pocket. When I was angry, people knew.
To those that I hurt, I am sorry. I hope this journal gives you some insight into my actions, and I hope that you’ll give me a chance to connect with you if you haven’t already.
Carrying anger has been harmful. At the time, I didn’t know how to feel it only when it was useful and then let it go.
I’m not sure if I’m good at letting it go these days either. I’m still angry with Dr. Second Opinion and the other doctors who made me feel stupid and useless. But I can feel the anger without feeling the physical effects, like a heavy heartbeat and tense muscles and headaches.
Is that letting go?