An arsenal of rage

My dad says that luck is bullshit. I don’t. I have believed in this thing I have now confirmed is luck sense I was little. I don’t believe the world will not screw me over because I’m a good person. That’s like believing that the bull won’t attack because I’m a vegetarian. That is just bullshit. Neither do I believe in destiny and fate. I believe that we set our own path by the choices we make along the way.
Things like the fact that my mother has cancer I believe was invisibly inevitable from the beginning. It was just always going to happen. Why or how doesn’t matter to me. It just is what it is and quite frankly that enrages me. The whole diagnosis fill me with chained rage that fills my veins. My rage isn’t pointed at anything in particular. Not my mother, not the doctor who told my mother, not my dad. Maybe I’m enraged at the cancer itself. But in truth I don’t really care. The fact is, it’s there and I just sits in my head and in my heart and does absolutely nothing helpful. I am so monumentally pissed off about the whole affair that I have gone through the week growling at absolutely everyone. Except those who I have deemed safe of course. My teachers have gone through the week looking at me strangely as have moodily stared out the window trying to control my rapidly firing temper from the people that don’t deserve it’s fiery wrath. I have reason to believe that I am going to have to go to school on Monday and grudgingly apologise to my entire school. I has just become clear to me as I lye in my bed on this Saturday morning at 6:39am. I’m still angry. If nothing I’m still furious, but I believe that before I was fighting that anger by pushing it back. There is something about waking up on a morning that you are meant to sleep in on. And so before my eyes were even open I just decided to accept the fact that I was angry instead of trying to convince myself I’m not. If I can imagine my temper as being a monster, I would of seen yesterday a large beast tried to the was with a child’s hair ribbon. Easily broken and easily out of control. Now I seems large black beast chained to the wall, solidly chained into the corner. Hopefully it won’t be fed anything for a little while.
For now this monster inside of me is still raging horribly and I can already tell that for the next few weeks it will, in most senses, be the beast in me.

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4 comments

  1. Kate · November 30, 2013

    I knew you’d figure it out. Totally understand the anger. Being able to name it and keep an eye on it is a big life skill. I think that will be good for me too, as we go through this together, so that’s already a big thing you’ve done to help.

    We’ll all bring different strengths to this. Remember how we all got Grandma’s ring off my finger together and then danced around on the deck high-fiving and hugging? That’s how we’ll do all of this new thing: we each do different bits of what has to be done, and then we laugh a lot.

    I believe in luck, as it happens, because luck brought you to me.

    Love mum xxx

  2. flourishingsimplicity · December 1, 2013

    Clem, I am blow away by your wonderful blog.

  3. flourishingsimplicity · December 1, 2013

    Whoops…. looks like I miss out letters too (:

  4. richardhall372 · December 7, 2013

    It’s 5pm in Leicester, UK and I’m trying to find the courage to blog something I wrote on Wednesday about courage and work and depression. Your words and gbose of your Mom inch me along the path. Take great care.

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