Better (The Rational Reflection Part)
May. 14th, 2010 06:04 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
qosUnsurprisingly, I am feeling better this morning.
Last night I tried to add a self-aware, rational element to the post about anger, but it felt wrong -- which is unusual for me. Usually it's very important to me to leaven my emotional excesses with a bit of rational reflection, especially when they are as unfair as last night's outburst. But whenever I started typing those words, I had to stop. My anger needed to be honored and accepted without apology or diminishment, like every other aspect of my grieving.
I am not truly angry at him, of course.
I know he would never have left me willingly, that he fought with all his strength to stay.
I know that he has not left me, even though he could not sustain his hold on his body.
I think the root of the anger is the feeling of helplessness. I feel angry at my own inability to change what happened, and that extends to his inability to change things as well.
And actually it's more than that. It's as if all the things that have made me sad for the past three years suddenly became sources of anger -- and it's taken me somewhat by surprise, given the lessening of the pain I've been feeling. It's as if the grief has a life of its own and has shape-changed to re-assert itself as this third anniversary approaches.
No way out but through.
Last night I tried to add a self-aware, rational element to the post about anger, but it felt wrong -- which is unusual for me. Usually it's very important to me to leaven my emotional excesses with a bit of rational reflection, especially when they are as unfair as last night's outburst. But whenever I started typing those words, I had to stop. My anger needed to be honored and accepted without apology or diminishment, like every other aspect of my grieving.
I am not truly angry at him, of course.
I know he would never have left me willingly, that he fought with all his strength to stay.
I know that he has not left me, even though he could not sustain his hold on his body.
I think the root of the anger is the feeling of helplessness. I feel angry at my own inability to change what happened, and that extends to his inability to change things as well.
And actually it's more than that. It's as if all the things that have made me sad for the past three years suddenly became sources of anger -- and it's taken me somewhat by surprise, given the lessening of the pain I've been feeling. It's as if the grief has a life of its own and has shape-changed to re-assert itself as this third anniversary approaches.
No way out but through.
