Tuesday night I was angry…SO angry. It’s been many years since I’ve felt so angry, and I didn’t know what to do with all that anger. I was tired from open house the night before, work was stressful, then I went to see my mom at her assisted living and she accused me of stealing her wooden hangers. (I’ve never known my mom to have wooden hangers by the way.) On my way home, I started crying and then yelling about how life was so unfair and why was all this happening to me.
By the time I got home, I was seething. I slammed doors and yelled some more. I then got in bed and balled my eyes out. I wanted to give up, and I was very close to calling off the surgery. My husband was very caring and just lied with me, rubbing my back till I calmed down and went to sleep. The next morning I felt a little less angry though I chose to listen to Metallica instead of Debussy on my way in to work.
Being around teenagers can be stressful, but you have to stay calm, collected, and “never let ’em see you sweat”. Therefore, I put my anger and sadness aside to get to know my new library aides better, make ID’s, conduct librarian orientation scavenger hunts. I was back to my old self pretty soon, but I’m still struggling at times while I’m not at work. I’ll hear a song or read something and then the tears start welling up and I wonder what I’m supposed to get out of all this. Is this supposed to make me more compassionate, or is it supposed to help me in some other way? Am I supposed to be steered by this into making some life-changing decision? Is God letting the devil test me? Am I meant to die in surgery at the age of 43? What’s the meaning of all this? I want to be stronger than this, but I’m struggling. I just really wish God were a bit more forthcoming. I find comfort in the Psalms and other passages of the bible, but it’s still hard. I wish all of this were over.