It’s been a long time since I’ve posted anything on here. Partially because I didn’t know how to articulate what I was feeling, partially because I didn’t want to seem like a whiner, and partially because there’s not always much to say when you are just “getting by.” I have been angry and frustrated as of late. I think there is a bit of a chip on my shoulder as it were. Perhaps it is residual anger about getting a brain tumor. Perhaps it is (if I’m being honest) frustration that my brain tumor really hasn’t set me apart in any way. Or perhaps it is just because once something really bad happens, you think you’ve paid your dues and you set extremely unrealistic expectations for your life and when the universe doesn’t give you what you want? Well, you get pissed. And boy am I pissed. I am seething. There is an abundance of irrational, unbridled, targeted, hurtful, mean, pointless anger pouring from me. I try to contain it, but really fuck that. Why should I? Am I not entitled to be pissed once in a while? I got so angry the other day that my mom witnessed me almost wanting to tear my own hair out. She drew me near her and opened her arms for a hug. When I got close enough to her, she pulled me towards her head and whispered (in my good ear), “if you ever pull my child’s hair again, I’ll kill you.” Then, she laughed and told me to have faith. “Faith?” I responded flippantly, “faith in what? God? God gave me a brain tumor.” As my friend later pointed out, “God also let you live.” While my relationship with God is perhaps a bit fractured if even existent, I do want to believe in something (kind of). In destiny, in fate, in faith, in hope. I want to believe there is a purpose and calling to my life. It’s hard to do sometimes. Mostly, I want to believe in myself.
So what has made me pissed? Well, for starters, my beloved Teddy died. (You can read about him in my post titled Tugboat Jenkins ) It was his time and I am glad he is not suffering, but the selfish part of me, wanted to say Goodbye and I didn’t have the chance. That combined with various family dynamics, family health issues and consistent pressure from various angles has left me listless and cranky. I’ve made it three months post-op and have been overwhelmed by the love poured out to me by friends near and far. I am not sure counting the months since surgery is super beneficial anymore but it is a marker of where I am. I’m glad to have made it but I still have headaches and I’m tired of telling people about them. I still hurt, I still can’t hear. I’m super busy with school because my time management has gone to crap. I’ve had the stomach flu, and some kind of nasty bug in the last few weeks. My body is tired but fighting to come back (Crossfit is my new best friend). Generally I thrive when I am busy, I thrive when I have stress. The stress I have lately is not that of meeting deadlines and writing papers, it’s about life. And this? It’s too personal, too pointed. I’m being called upon to be an arbiter in my own life and I’m not ready to do that. I was okay coasting along, focusing on school, not acknowledging that many of my personal relationships are in shambles. I’m healing so there is not a great excuse not to deal with things. Pretending I can’t hear the arguing, can’t feel the tension isn’t really working. I keep waiting for some divine intervention, some kind of response to the blind faith I used to have. It’s useless, I know but it sure as hell beats making any real decisions. I have a quote on my wall that says “Life isn’t about finding yourself, life is about creating yourself.” I want to be the person who can create myself, I see myself as that person, but I use fate, destiny, “meant to be” as excuses not to actually face the things I want to and need to confront. My tumor has changed me, it has made me afraid, of regret, of hurt, of wronging anyone and it has left me paralyzed.
I can’t think straight anymore when it comes to my own life. I’m too tired. I want to dive into my studies, find my cause and pursue it relentlessly. I want to be wedded to my career, my passion to help women. I want to be devoted to my cause. That is who I am, that is who I am called to be and I love it. I want to create myself as a woman who doesn’t get pummeled or walked on. Who asserts herself in her life. Who makes positive change. I want to be who I am, who I used to be and the woman who is hiding under this veneer of anger and self- pity. It’s Persian New Year, a celebration of new life, spring, and good thoughts, words and deeds based on ancient Zoroastrian traditions. It’s a new beginning, and a fresh start. So, in honor of the new year, I’m going to stop feeling sorry for myself and do something about it. About what? I’m not sure, and what I’m going to do? Good question, I’ll figure it out. If life is about creating yourself than the whole of life is the journey. I’m not going to worry, right this minute, about where that journey leads.
I was told, in the midst of a ranting venting session, that a little gratitude wouldn’t hurt. I may not be expressing it well but I am grateful. For my life, for starters, and for the people in it (the ones that keep me in check and listen to the ones who obtusely insist on what is best for me) and the conflict I find myself mired in. We fight because we care, it’s when we have no fight left in us that we should start to worry. Off on my journey…
Peace and love –