Angry? Who me?

A friend told me, the other day, that my anger levels are scary. Another said that I rock a shit-ton more rage since The Amazing Bob moved on — she’s worried about me.

Huh. I'm Furiosa all the time now? Rilly?

Yup. Mind you, neither, as far as I could elicit, feel that I’m all over the place with my passionate furies. I’m not blazing amorphous ire at friends and fam. Nope, it's directed at our desperately mentally ill, grifter asshole president and his entire on-the-take, I’ve-got-mine-so-screw-you Republican party.

OF COURSE I’m in a mondo fury about what up in Washington. The Lying-Sack-of-Shit in Chief and his supporters are out to destroy all that is good about this country. They wanna go back in time to a place where women were subservient, blacks existed only to serve, Mexicans picked produce for pennies and then went back home across the border, Indians stayed invisible on the rez and the only immigrants were from predominantly WHITE European countries. They’re steering this ship into pre-1900s territory. You know, when the rich lived in preposterously giant mansions (so cute and quaintly termed "cottages") with servants to clean their poopy bottoms. If you’re sick, NOT wealthy or white? Well mon ami, we die and we die HARD – painfully, protractedly and, preferably, unseen by our betters.

You see, me with my lady parts, advanced age, distinct dearth of wealth and the Nf2 ridden bod – I kinda take this shit REAL personal-like.

BUT
A) Is this near constant level of profound fury healthy? (Answer: Not so much, no.)
B) How much of this is transference? That is, YES of course the “right” is mondo rage worthy BUT how much of this is over TAB’s early, untimely death?

One person, who feels TAB's exit stage left is the root cause, has said that she doesn’t understand my anger – feels, given the circumstance, it doesn’t make sense. After all, I did all I could to take care of my handsome man (yes and then some). He was 74 and his cancer had come back in molto hostile spades. Sad – yes but shit happens. What’s the anger about?

I’m angry because I’m in deep motherfucking, horror-show pain that TAB’s gone. He was the center of my being, my other half, my world. I’m not mad at TAB, the good docs, any of my ire deserving relations or myself. No, I’m torrentially enraged with the very universe. How could this beautiful, fabulous, caring, stunning man’s life be over and out? NO FUCKING FAIRS!

I CAN get to this placid-ish space again. OH YES I can!

When this friend first said that she didn’t grok my fireworks, I said oh no, it’s not about TAB’s death, it’s about the state of the world. I’m just desperately sad about TAB. Umm…yes and NO.

I remember, back in another lifetime after TAB and I first got together, an acquaintance said that I seemed so much happier, calmer with him in my life. Yup. Truth. The Amazing Bob cooled down my heat soaked, serenity-free heart. Another dear friend has said that he doesn't see me as a rage queen – no, you're just a passionate soul. That’s more poetry than I deserve but I'll take it.

While this anger is normal and understandable, I’ve got to find a way back to tranquility base. Can I manage this feat without my MOST Amazing Bob?