Anger in the face of tragedy

Anger.  That primal emotion that erupts unbidden from the very depths of our soul.  That reaction we wish we could harness and make heel like an obedient pet.  That fuel that burns uncontrollably.  Anger.  White, hot anger that even tears cannot squelch.  That is what I feel.  I guess some days I have to remember that it is a blessing to feel anything at all as depression has robbed me of many emotions.  It has not robbed me of anger.

And with anger comes guilt.  The idea that I have no right to be angry at my husband; to be angry at God.  But anger is a very human emotion.  And I do have a right to be angry as long as I don’t live there in anger.  Maybe another widow or widower would understand.  Other people try to but I’m not sure they can fully fathom the power of that anger.  I am angry that my husband suffered depression before he died and that it made our lives so stressful.  I am angry that the multiple treatments we tried didn’t work.  I am angry that my children had to be exposed to his depression.  I am angry that he died and left us.  I am angry that sometimes my children will say they would rather be with him or prefer him or that he let them do x, y, or z because I don’t so obviously I am the mean parent.  Try competing with a ghost.  It sucks.  A ghost can do no wrong and you sure as hell better not try to ruin the image of that ghost for a child clinging to their own kind of reality.  No, have patience, the truth will come later.  I am angry that I have to juggle all the responsibilities meant for a couple by myself.  I am angry at my friends who live in matrimonial normalcy.  I am angry when they have someone to call after a big event and I well, don’t.  I could call a friend, my kids . . . but it’s not the same.  I am angry that no one else in this world feels the weight of responsibility for my children with me; no one who can truly feel the same worry, care, frustration because they are no one else’s kids on this earth except for mine.  I am angry that I am depressed.  I am angry that I cry without warning.  I am angry when I feel irritated and lose my temper with my kids or pets.  I am just angry.

And you know what, I am going to stay here and be angry for a little while.  I am going to embrace it and feel it.  I am not going to try to justify my anger, I am not going to try to explain it.  I am going to just be with it.  Maybe by not fighting it, it will burn out and leave me exhausted and empty and READY to be filled with the emotion that comes next.  Acceptance maybe?  Guilt?  Sadness? Will there be space for joy?  There are no two roads to choose from in these woods – just one path straight through the darkest part of the forest.

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