Today I woke up angry. Its has been coming for a while. I do not think that the world owes me anything, that someone is to blame for things that happen to me, but today I woke angry.
Angry that I am not as healthy as I was, angry that I cannot achieve what I want to , angry with the world. Maybe the realisation that my body will no longer respond when I try and push it, the fatigue of having to cajole and gently move towards a goal rather than rushing toward it like a steam train, has finally made me start to re-evaluate where I am and what my future might not hold.
Always the optimist, I have been telling myself that things will be better in a month, in two, in six. The reality is that I can’t know this. And today this has made me angry. I am raging against a body that will no longer bend in line with my stubborn mindset, that will not be controlled by my OCD like tendencies, that demand that my mental approach wing it, rather than let me plan meticulously.
I am surprised I feel like this, usually always one to find a positive from a less than optimal situation, to refuse to give in and keep grinding forwards and yet I am surprised it has taken me so long.
I am beginning to come to terms with some things that I have been keeping in the small pandoras box, the dark room inside my mind. Only now the door is open and the grey light is seeping in, things are beginning to develop. Images and thoughts that I am not ready to acknowledge are pushing their way into my consciousness – demanding I give them my attention. But I am not ready. Not yet. Partly because I am scared, partly because I am sad. And angry. Furious with a world that owes me nothing.
If I write about these things that are bothering me, I will have acknowledged that they exist and then as with speaking them out loud, I might be forced to take action. And I am not ready for that either. So for today I will silently fume and plot. I wasn’t going to write today, because as we know some of the greatest speeches that we make whilst angry are usually those we regret the most. But I am a warts and all kinda gal, take me or leave me, I won’t pretend its all rainbows and unicorns on the days its pissing down and there’s a shetland pony crapping in the street. And tomorrow I will likely feel better and pretend that in a month I will be strong and indestructible- like I was before, right….?