Anger as a Faithful Companion
I'm going to come right out and say it:
I'm angry today.
My blood is boiling.
I'm pissed off.
Why am I angry? Our attendant service sent us a new person for training. The scheduler led us to believe, via email, that she would be trained by one of our regular attendants (evidently, "yes" to the question, "Is the regular attendant coming on Sunday?" doesn't always mean "yes."
I'm angry because all my plans for today have been obliterated. I will not spend my day doing anything I'd like to do. I won't spend my time with my other daughter, or relaxing, or doing things that need doing around the house. I'll work harder than I do during the week. I'll work harder than the person sent here to "help." I'll have to take care of my disabled child and the attendant. In effect, I'll have double the work than if I just took care of Savannah by myself (which I greatly prefer).
So, yeah, I'm pissed off. I'm seething. I want to call the scheduler at the service and spit the F-bomb in her face. I want to verbally manhandle her until she cries. I want to delight in schadenfreude as I imagine her losing sleep over the incident as she wonders what kind of complaint I'll lodge with her supervisor. After that, I want to shout at the sky, "Why me? What crime did I perpetrate to deserve this lifestyle?"
I could wait and write this post until I'm calmer and more able to reflect upon the "life lesson" in this miserable episode. If I did that, I could be witty, funny, maybe even poignant or charming. I could make this all look like some meaningful event that teaches me a deep understanding of the human condition. I could come off looking like a saint or guru.
Screw that!
I want to wallow in some self-pity. I want to hate. I want to roll in the mud.
This post is a window into this life that outsiders rarely get to see... and I wanted to let you see it today.
Here I am with my faithful companion: Anger. Take a good look. She never gets too far away and she's quick to come. She is an ugly monster. She drags me into her den and dresses me in her stinking rags. Anger produces derision and tut-tutting from its unfortunate witnesses. When I show you my anger, your instinct is to turn away. She is the train wreck. She is the floor of the slaughter house: we know it is there, but we don't want to see it. Well, here it is. Stare through the window. Soak it up. It is the only way to move on. She has to be satisfied. And once she has had enough, she slips away quietly, and I can find peace again.
#anger #disability #specialneeds #parenting #specialneedsparenting #wallowinginselfpity
I'm angry today.
My blood is boiling.
I'm pissed off.
Why am I angry? Our attendant service sent us a new person for training. The scheduler led us to believe, via email, that she would be trained by one of our regular attendants (evidently, "yes" to the question, "Is the regular attendant coming on Sunday?" doesn't always mean "yes."
So, yeah, I'm pissed off. I'm seething. I want to call the scheduler at the service and spit the F-bomb in her face. I want to verbally manhandle her until she cries. I want to delight in schadenfreude as I imagine her losing sleep over the incident as she wonders what kind of complaint I'll lodge with her supervisor. After that, I want to shout at the sky, "Why me? What crime did I perpetrate to deserve this lifestyle?"
I could wait and write this post until I'm calmer and more able to reflect upon the "life lesson" in this miserable episode. If I did that, I could be witty, funny, maybe even poignant or charming. I could make this all look like some meaningful event that teaches me a deep understanding of the human condition. I could come off looking like a saint or guru.
Screw that!
I want to wallow in some self-pity. I want to hate. I want to roll in the mud.
This post is a window into this life that outsiders rarely get to see... and I wanted to let you see it today.
Here I am with my faithful companion: Anger. Take a good look. She never gets too far away and she's quick to come. She is an ugly monster. She drags me into her den and dresses me in her stinking rags. Anger produces derision and tut-tutting from its unfortunate witnesses. When I show you my anger, your instinct is to turn away. She is the train wreck. She is the floor of the slaughter house: we know it is there, but we don't want to see it. Well, here it is. Stare through the window. Soak it up. It is the only way to move on. She has to be satisfied. And once she has had enough, she slips away quietly, and I can find peace again.
#anger #disability #specialneeds #parenting #specialneedsparenting #wallowinginselfpity
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