Anger management

It's hard to explain, but I have spent the last few years more angry than anything. I've had so much happen that is totally out of my control, and I feel more like a pawn in the world than anything else. Sometimes I wonder why I should try to do anything as most efforts tend towards failure.

I think it all started with the move to Missouri. I really wanted to move up here. I was sick of Dallas and all the traffic/pollution/crime (even though our little town was safe). I would get to live near my Grandpa, and that would be one of the best benefits. He'd always been one of my favorite people.

We moved for Tom's school. This has always been a point of contention between us. One of the times in college when we broke up was because he didn't want to leave Texas and I did. I couldn't see going through with a relationship with someone who couldn't support my goals, one of which was to move as far away as possible - to live and breathe other cultures - to experience life to its fullest.

Needless to say, we got back together. And I have had to follow ever since.

I love him. That's not the problem. But I feel so incredibly stifled and unfulfilled. I was 22 hours into a PhD program in Arlington, and I absolutely loved it. I had a great cohort and I was doing well.

Tom only got into one law school. He set his sights high, and it's not a negative reflection on him at all. Mizzou has a great law school and he did well. He graduated, passed the bar, and got a job.

So what's the problem?

I gave up my PhD and started working at a job which was far less than fulfilling - in fact I decided I wanted to leave nursing. After a return to a previous subject which I loved, I decided I couldn't do it, work nights, and battle with the school of education over classes that I took 15 years previously. So once again, I gave up something I loved. That was summer '06.

In Spring '07 I found out that my grandfather had pancreatic cancer. We knew he just had weeks and it was so hard to say goodbye to him. He was the last person in the world who loved me unconditionally. But if anyone had a good death, it was Papa. I got to be with him near the end. I had said goodnight the night before and helped my children say goodnight as well. For the first time in years, my father acted like he approved of something I had done. I had advocated for Papa's pain, had helped manage some tricky maneuvers regarding the funeral and an "unwelcome" guest. I had helped guide my children and show them that death is not something to be feared - it is a reunion with God and Papa would be with Mema again.

Papa died in June 2007. In August 2007 my father was chased off the road for a robbery. The ensuing injuries left him comatose for months. He is barely starting to wake up, but he will never be the person he once was. And my last communication with him was our usual conversation in which he was continually belittling me and finding fault with everything I did. That day in late July I couldn't leave fast enough. I know that I hugged him and kissed him and told him I loved him, because that was our routine. So at least I had that.

Now it is September 2008. Things are settling down. My mother is calling less frequently and there are far fewer crises for me to run down to Alabama for or to try to comfort her over the phone. I am very thankful for this.

My husband starts his new job tomorrow. He is starting his own law practice. To a certain extent I am proud of him, as this is something he has wanted ever since he started law school (or probably before). But once again, I feel like I am giving up so much. This summer I went back to working in an ICU for weekend nights. I enjoy my job and my coworkers are great. But it is something that I didn't expect to have to do, especially at this time.

I am still trying to complete my PhD. Sometimes I wonder if I'm playing tug of war with God on this one. I have had so many road blocks and stumbling points. I wonder if it's worth it at all. I am not doing as well as I did last time around. It is hard for me to organize my thoughts and to keep up with my work. Plus, I have three kids with increasing difficulty of homework to deal with. And they are my top priority.

So within all of this turmoil I have this simmering rage. Sometimes it grows and sometimes it shrinks. Usually it is manageable to some degree, but sometimes I have to just get out and drive or walk or just leave. I drive with music blaring (I call this my music therapy). Depending on my mood I play Nirvana (Territorial Pissings is a favorite) or something from an earlier, happier time, like U2 or Duran Duran. A happier, simpler time when my life had some sort of option available.

I feel so often like I don't have an outlet. Like I'm lost. This is when people say, oh just rely on God. But it's not that easy for me. I'm a little pissed at Him sometimes. I feel so stranded. At family gatherings I am the one everyone comes to for comfort. No one knows/cares that I need some support sometimes, too. At work I help alleviate pain and concerns. I feel a little better knowing that maybe I've helped enrich a life of calm a fear. But I don't have anyone to talk to.

I don't want to worry either of the people who read this. I'm not going to act on any feelings of rage or sadness. I just hate that I can't enjoy my family and that I hate my life so desperately much.