Why Are You So Angry Tonight?

Why are you so bitter tonight?
Why are you mad at the ballet teacher, who didn’t treat your daughter nicely?
Mad about Reed College and how they took so much from you?
Things that happened so long ago?
Well, I’m mad for those reasons.
And others.
I’m angry at being trapped inside this body,
This brain
Neither that work in tandem anymore.
I feel like I’m ½ of what I used to be.
I’m angry that I had to lay in bed all day today (again)
Hunting and seeking a nap because I slept for 4 hours last night
And I never trapped the nap. All day, no nap trap.
I’m angry that I’m poor, that I contribute nothing to this family because I cannot work.
I’m angry that the government disagrees, and says I can work,
I’m bitter for knowing all I would have to give up and trade to work:
Work = give up my doctors’ appointments
Work = give up my necessary rest times
Work = resting instead of being a mother
Work = resting instead of being a partner
Work = not having the energy left to be a friend
Work = not doing yoga, walking, or having any hobbies
Work = getting up, going to work, coming home, and going right to bed.
Repeat.
I’ve done it,
It sucks.
Because all of my energy would be going towards WORK.
I’ve done that, 80-hour weeks, for most of my adult life.
Work =. Non-profit work
They suck you dry.
I’m bitter that I always worked for non-profits, got paid NOTHING, and now even if I get disability, it will be a drop in the ocean of expenses. And social security, the same.
I’m angry at those that could never hear me ask for what I needed. And I asked, and asked, and asked. And they would not and could not hear. And chose not to hear.
I’m angry at those that hid from me when I was newly sick.
When I was so scared, when I was dying.
At those that made me feel like I was never doing enough, even though I couldn’t. I can’t.
And those that still make me feel this way.
At those that could have helped me, and didn’t. Who chose themselves rather than helping me when I could barely walk, barely travel for treatment. I could have used help. Plans made, support offered, canceled. Sorry! Busy! Expenses! Projects!
I’m angry that I’m still so isolated.
So deep in the deep dark well.
I’m bitter that I had so many things I want to do, and I don’t have the energy.
The time.
The money.
Mike is planning a dive trip. I can’t go.
I can’t be in the ocean. I can’t submerge into the inky blue rolling waves.
I’m angry that social media forces me away from people I love, the harm I see being caused. I can't stick around for that.
I’m angry at the expectations people have for me.
And how I’m treated when I don’t meet those expectations.
I’m bitter that I have no control over how my body responds.
I’m angry at my dad for not telling me he had cancer, and without meaning to, put me in this constant cycle of pushing people away, not trusting anyone, not believing anyone.
I’m angry that I must write these words, and no one will read them.
I hate not being able to operate at even 50%, and how that impacts my husband and my kids.
I’m angry for all that I feel was stolen from me.
I’m bitter that so many people got this illness and were able to move right on.
But I didn’t, I just stayed locked in step with it. Probably forever.
I’m angry because I feel like I am not enough. For anyone.
Even myself.
And I may never be again.