Yesterday I wrote about bitterness; today I will write about anger. What I know is that bitterness is a result of anger, something which does no good, not for me, not for those around me, not for anybody. Yet I am angry. I'm angry that I got ALS. I'm angry that I don't get these years which I had hoped for. I am angry that my life didn't turn out the way I wanted.
All of that anger is pointless, most of it a result of frustration. While I may have something to be angry about, I most certainly have a great many other things which bring me happiness and joy. The only thing I can say is that the anger passes, as do all the stages of grief, for grief is what is behind all of this. I grieve constantly. Every day I die a little. For each loss, for each change, for each increment of decline, I grieve.
Like everything else with ALS, grief tires me out. It wears away at my emotional fabric, tearing bits and pieces off of me, rending my emotions, fading out my joy, replacing it with the anger and bitterness which remains. This is not just a physical illness; it is a psychological death as well. It kills to see myself die a little each day. Of course I am angry. Of course I am bitter. Who wouldn't be?
Yet still I wake up each day. Still I live life as much as I can. Still I keep going, not knowing how to stop, not wanting to stop, all the while wishing it would stop or I could stop. This too wears on me. Every emotion is stretched, like violin strings. Wearing on them rarely makes beautiful music. It is more likely to cause them to snap, twanging awkward, sour notes.
I am tired. I am perpetually tired. I am always tired. I am tired of being tired. My emotions are worn thin. My strength is leaving me. My ability to live life as I would like is diminishing constantly. Am I bitter? You bet I am. Will this bitterness pass? Yes, until it comes around again. When will that be? I don't know. Most likely when another violin string breaks.
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