Saturday, December 6, 2008

Angry

I'm really angry.

I'm trying not to be, which is manifesting itself as pointlessness, restlessness, futileness, meaninglessness, and a tight jaw.

I'm aware that I'm angry. Which is better than not being aware of it.

I think (as I try to reason with myself) that I'm angry because I'm missing the Christmas party at the Firehall AND the Conn Family's Annual skate and Christmas Potluck festivities. I'm angry that someone else had to take my children (but grateful that she offered, and then took them. They will have seen loads of their friends today and had a nice time playing.) I'm angry because, after telling myself that it'll be ok and realizing that I'll have a nice evening at home with my husband...he got the phone call: there's a risk of Risk. He didn't even ask me if it was ok tonight, just put Bart on hold for a sec and looked at me. What am I going to say? DON'T go? THAT would be selfish. I mutter something about how nice it must be to go out anywhere he wants to and that, the girls and I will be fine. They aren't home yet because my girlfriend, who said two hours ago that they were leaving now (so no...my husband couldn't take me to a quiet restaurant for dinner...we were going to try it, see if it was 'safe'), is now breastfeeding her baby and they haven't left yet. I guess I can't get angry over a breastfed baby...but part of me is, because...well, (selfish me) I didn't get to go out for dinner, for once.

When I said, just over a year ago, that I wanted to spend more time at home, this is NOT what I meant. So, we should be careful what we wish for. I didn't want my latex allergy to get so bad that I can no longer get into just any car, or go to any concerts, or take my kids swimming, or take them to birthday parties, or go shopping, or have a job, or have my driver's license taken away by the Ministry (on Doctor's orders), or to be couped up in this farmhouse in the middle of nowhere fighting with the Canadian Government over whether or not I am entitled to Long Term Disability benefits...I just meant, I'd like to spend a bit more time tending to my home, my kids and my husband. I was, afterall, burning my candle at three ends.

I KNOW this is my fault somehow. It doesn't make it any easier to deal with though. And I'm having a really hard time NOT feeling sorry for myself. The isolation is getting to me. My husbands' non-understanding of this rollercoaster of emotions is really difficult to digest and deal with...mind you, I can't imagine that I'm a barrel of fun or roses to deal with either. One day I love it here, the next I want to move back to Winnipeg where I have friends who WILL drop in on any given night and hang out. More than anything, I miss the music that was in our home there, and the food I got to prepare (and people I got to prepare it for, and who would eat it) and falling asleep while my husband and our mutual friends played music into the night. There's none of that here. He goes out to play, if he plays. No-one drops by...and why would they? We live in the middle of butt fuck nowhere. When I drove, I compensated for this by going to them.

I'm sure none of this is helped by the lack of sunshine in the sky. For the past two weeks, the sky has been heavy with snow. There are brief moments of blue that have blessed the skies in between the netherdim of gray that's hung over our heads and then dumped feet upon feet of white stuff at our doorstep, under our cars and on our roof. It's too wet to make snowmen with. My ass is too big to get on the GT Racer, so pummeling down our hill with the kids hasn't been an option either. I broke the snowblower the only time I used it this season...and it isn't even January. The dog doesn't even want to go out for very long. I guess I should be grateful that it isn't -40 below.

This Christmas was supposed to be a warm, fuzzy family affair...with Tracy coming all the way from England to spend the first of eons' of Xmas' in England. This'll be cousin Lauryn's first Christmas, as she's now 18 and no longer under the squelch of her Jehovah Witness parents. And we, were supposed to be joining them. My brother, being my brother, was the first to bail. He's got a new girlfriend, and in typical Simon fashion can't and WON't tell a girl that his family is important too...because we aren't yet. We'll have to wait until he has babies for that. (I know...I'm guilty too.) But, due to my inability to fly, and the difficulty in traversing Canada's Great Lakes' climate this time of year, and my inability to guarantee life-safety in a hotel room on route, we had to decline the invitation to spend the FIRST Christmas in over two decades with my family as well. My husband's family wins the monopoly on the festivities again.

I don't give a shit about Christmas this year. Ho ho fucking ho. Who'd like a crocheted hat...that's ALL I've been able to produce/make so far this year...unless you'd like my watercolouring offerings (that are pretty sad.)

I've been trying, with this time that I've been given (either due to my latex allergy being so severe OR this Systemic Mastocytosis loose-diagnosis by one Oncologist and denial by another Oncologist) situation OR whatever the hell it is that's going on with me, to remain positive. Tonight, obviously, I'm having a bit of a hard time with that. I've been trying to think about ALL the gifts this situation has given me. However, the List of Losses (as I've come to lovingly address them) that I've accumulated, is MUCh bigger than any of the pluses or gifts so far. I'm having trouble enjoying this time at home (how do people who win the Lotto do it????) but all I feel is guilty.

Guilty over what I'm not doing; guilty over the days that I can barely get out of bed; guilty about how much this body often hurts; guilty about the huge fear that I'm developing (and wish desperately for it to go away!); guilty over letting my family down for Christmas; guilty over letting Mandi down with her movie (I have a part in it...and have yet to film the last two scenes...I need to get back to Winnipeg to do so); guilty over this weight that my body keeps gaining, despite working out and eating 'healthy' and well; guilty over killing our baby/ies in September; guilty about not being the best parent I can be to the two girls we have; guilty over not being happy about being at home; guilty about not having our home 'perfect' despite all the time I have in it; guilty about resenting my husband a game of Risk with mutual male friends; guilty about not being 'there' for anyone recently; guilty about not saving lives with Seguin Fire Services; guilty about not being well enough to live this life I've been given.

And then...I remind myself that these are all JUST thoughts. But my God they can inundate a person.

Thank God, I can still write.

2 comments:

colin said...

A very moving blog hun. Im thinking of you

Gypsy Princessa said...

Thank you Colin. I appreciate you taking the time to share yourself and time with me. Do you keep a blog?