Working on the anger

The sadness can be heavy.  It sneaks up on me at unexpected times.  It reminds me of my cat Princess, who somehow ends up under my feet when I am standing in the kitchen doing dishes, or walking up the stairs, and I'm all "Fuck, Princess, how did you get there?"  And I am sometimes startled by the sadness, but I can regain my footing, and relatively quickly at that.  Are there days when I need to bask in it a little longer?  When my brain isn't as quick on the draw to pull out of it with a joke, or a smile, or a recognition of something deeply good?  Sure.  That's why I am hooked on the exercise - the natural high I get moving through space to music acts as a pretty good counter to the sad.

But the anger, well, the anger is a whole lot different.  Because the anger feels like a beast that is living inside of you and it is always hungry.  And it will eat anything.

See that lady standing by the bus stop yelling at her two-year old.  Hear about a doctor, maybe an OB, who may be spreading misinformation about RPL?   Have a person make an innocuous comment about your daughter being an only child, and have to clench your fists behind your back to hide the rage?

It doesn't help that I am sort of professionally angry.  I mean, my career is intrinsically linked to being angry about economic injustice.  More than a few people have commented that my "passion"  - which I think is rooted in anger  - makes me very good at my job.

But the other thing that makes me good at my job is my undying hope.  I talk a lot about hope on this blog.  Having it.  Losing it.  Defining it.

We all know what this little guy has said (and fine, I will out myself as a total geek):


At the risk of angering the Star Wars fans out there, I have mixed feelings about this quote.  I mean, sure it's classic Tao.  And  fear can be a terrible force.

But I also think to deny the fear is to deny humanity.  If I break it down, YES, ABSOLUTELY I am afraid of what the future holds. Is it another miscarriage?  Am I going to have another experience that chips away at my sanity?  When someone makes a comment with a negative connotation about my daughter having no siblings, and I clench my fists, is it because at my core, I am deeply afraid that by not giving her the life I thought I would give her, her future has been compromised?  Or that her childhood memories will hold so many unanswered questions about why Mommy got so weird every few months?

And when I take even another step back, I am fairly certain that the anger I feel for the medical establishment is detached from fear.  I mean, doctor after doctor has offered me a plate of disappointment.  And being on the wrong side of statistics with "struck by lightening" scenarios over and over and over and over again, well, as they say, "it is what it is."    Personally, I am pissed off about it.

Yeah, I'm furious.

And if I am honest, I am not at a place right now where I can overcome it.

We're all works in progress, right?