I’m Still Angry

I’m not talking about the evil, smegma brained, fart lozenges who are destroying our country. Of course that rage is ongoing.

Current fuming is about something completely different.

You see, I’ve tracked down the source of some of my recent sadness and vexation. It originates with people I’ve cared about, supported in one way or another and cheerleaded (cheerled?). They supposedly loved me too but couldn’t be arsed to show me the same consideration or support. I didn’t even get a goddamn get well card (or text! C’mon now, how hard is it to send a wee get well text with a stupid emoji?) after one of my mega surgeries. No cute memes sent or even a brief bloody acknowledgment of what I’ve been up against.

Have they been living in my head rent free all this time? I didn’t think so BUT, recently, I discovered some stray filthy socks and stale pizza crusts of irritation littering my poor old hippocampus.

How did I miss those until now? This is why:

As a kid Mr. Spock’s logic based handling of life was my goal. Hell, that's still my aim. Deal with what’s in front of me and avoid dwelling on the past (but learn lessons from it); don’t expect more than someone has shown they are able to give; set reasonable boundaries so I’m not mistaken for a doormat, ATM or a one-way-only unpaid therapist. Also, I've tried to shake off my expectations as well as supposed loved ones apparent indifference. Their disregard has hurt, sure, but everyone has their own hard row to hoe. Maybe the weight of their struggles got in the way of them sending a get well text or card? Cool, cool. I understand. Like totally man!

As Ricky Nelson so eloquently put it I learned my lesson well. Logic and facing reality are the way.

I’m not always successful but this attitude, this way of handling shit is what I shoot for.

The problem? I’m an emotive babe. Dramatic even. I know that and attempt to tamp down (or at least moderate) the volcanic eruptions of Mount Donna. No…REALLY! I try and sometimes even appear to be successfully unaffected on any deep level (because LOGIC) but, here in reality-ville, I’m still hurt and pissed off. I can’t get rid myself of enervating anger by denying its existence. I also don’t need to act on it. That is, I don’t need to confront anyone or seek out apologies (which wouldn’t necessarily arrive anyway).

Just recognizing and acknowledging that I’m still angry has lifted the fug of resentment and melancholia. I may not be fully done with anger and hurt but I’m not burying it either. I can wave hello at it and just walk on by.

Awesome, n'est-ce pas?