Last week, I had a phone interview with a writer who annually produces a special newspaper insert, distributed nationwide, on cancer awareness and treatment. She liked my blog so much that she wanted to feature me, but when we got on the phone, I was full of angst and cynicism and other glass-half-empty sort of stuff. But mostly, I was full of anger. I met her questions with biting answers.
When she asked, “Do you ever see a time when your blog stops serving a purpose for you and you leave it behind?” I answered with, “Yeah, I do, and really, I think it might be now.”
What a jerkface.
I was such a jerkface that she eventually said something like, “I’ve read a lot of your blog, and you seemed to move through cancer with positivity and humor. Talking to you now, I’m wondering if you feel like who you are on the blog is a persona you created for your writing.”
Now, I’m sure those weren’t her exact words, and she was very, very nice in asking this — like she was really just genuinely curious about my “process” — but OUCH, dude.
But yeah, I deserved that.
You see, lately I’ve been ANGRY. Straight-up mad. I had *moments* of anger throughout treatment (like when I dramatically threw my $300 breast pump away or when I received my first big hospital bill and realized I was actually going to have to PAY FOR THIS with my money too) but in the grand scheme of things, I think I skipped that stage.
I’m generally not an angry person so this is new territory for me. I have to say I don’t like it. As necessary a step as this might be, it’s not very becoming of me. Last weekend, one of my best friends was home from Boston, and in trying to joke with him, I think I was just rude. Anger is seeping right out of me and into my countenance.
My mother-in-law kept our girls overnight recently so my husband and I could have a date night. Mid date, my husband looked at me and said, “I feel like you don’t like me very much right now.” It was true. I didn’t. But that’s also because the very next day, I became a woman. Again. I literally felt like I was 13 all over again — I only wished my mom was around so she could call her friends and alert them of the news — I had nothing in the house to “deal with it,” and I wasn’t sure if I needed to call off work for such an occasion or not.
Then, when I went to work, I complained that all the extra money I was making “at this hospital” was “going to another hospital” (to pay off my medical bills).
You guys, something has to be done. I don’t like me right now. It’s actually not me right now.
Last week, I told Josh that I was going to write a blog post about every little thing I was angry about as a way to purge it. An exorcism, you know. So I began keeping a mental tally, and I have to say, I started to feel better immediately. I don’t think I need to share that post because it’s not my jam to spread negativity (The list ranges from being angry that I lost a big portion of Alice’s babyhood to cancer treatments to being angry that my nails are still peeling. I mean, I’m angry that my finances are a mess and that my body will never be the same, but I’m also angry that Hanson never acknowledged me and that I have to deal with my bikini line again.), but I am glad that I gave it some thought.
My anger is valid right now, and I kept trying to push it away. I kept trying to remind myself of all the things I have to be thankful for (pretty much alllllllllll the things! I am truly one lucky lady.), but it only masks the problem and you end up being a jerk to those around you anyway. So I gave my anger its day in the sun this week by consciously acknowledging each thing — big and small and seemingly insignificant — that I have lost or that I am just straight up mad about, and you guys, it has helped.
My friend has to turn around and come back to town this week so hopefully, I’ll get a second chance to tease him without being a jerk. I know he would forgive me anyway. I’m a little more nervous about this newspaper insert though. : /