Gratitude and Creativity: Calming My Anger

Yesterday I was angry. I was so angry I had to cry to release some of the emotional pain the anger made me feel. I was angry because I spoke with my sister for the first time in just shy of five years. Her reason for ending contact was trivial and petty. I learned that she decided to cut me off based on a false assumption. Within ten minutes of talking about our different perspectives of what happened five years ago, it was clear that we could have resolved the issue without losing so much time out of each other’s lives.

I called her yesterday morning because I feel like I need to get myself organized. Because I don’t know when I will have surgery or what might happen when I do, I feel the need to contact people who I haven’t communicated with for a long time. Not acquaintances, but people I believe hold a significant place in my life. I am contacting them to let them know – if they don’t already – that I am (still) ill and I am adding their names to a list of people I want contacted after my surgery with news about the outcome, especially if it’s poor. I want to call these people because I believe in preparing for the worst while hoping for the best. The worst of what I’m preparing for is that something could go wrong during or after surgery, and I don’t want a phone call from a stranger to be the first time they learn that I’ve been sick for so long or worse. I feel like it’s a thoughtful thing to do. I know it’s self-inflicted stress, but the fact that I keep thinking about how these people might feel tells me it’s something I need to do. For obvious reasons, my sister is on the list.

Nonetheless, let’s get back to my anger. My sister made me angry because she chose to stay angry with me for a petty reason for five years. In fact, she said she felt she had the right to be angry about what happened. She held on to her anger even after my many attempts to make peace. After almost a year of reaching out and having her respond with coldness, I gave up. I figured she would contact me when she was ready to talk. That never happened. Then to add insult to injury, she said she didn’t feel angry while we were speaking.

Her rationalization and justification about her behaviour made me boil. Then she said, “Well that happened.” As if there was no more reason to discuss the matter further. I felt my blood pressure rise at her cavalier attitude about five years we could never get back. I reached dangerous temperatures when she swiftly changed gears and started to ask me detailed questions about my condition as if we just spoke a few days ago and I was now calling for a heart-to-heart chat.

Sadly, the more upset I became the more I cried and the more my pain increased. I had to cut our conversation short. After I hung up the call, I needed to find something to calm myself. Surprisingly, I reached for my art/gratitude journal. I got to work on a page I started the night before. I lost myself in colouring the shapes traced on the white page. I worked on it for hours until it felt complete. While I worked on it, I was able to calm my anger and empty myself of all thoughts and feelings about everything except the page in front of me.

Filled Found Shape

Filled Found Shape

I put myself into that page. I had no plan for where I would place the colours. I didn’t know I would draw patterns to fill the coloured spaces. But, when I finished, I was calm and my anger was in the distance.

 

EMF – You’re Unbelievable

Why Am I Being Punished?

I’ve been crying on and off since my appointment with my reluctant surgeon a couple days ago.

My friend J went with me to the appointment – she usually does to make sure I ask and get answers to all my questions – and even though she had to go back to work, she was kind enough to sit with me for a while afterward to help me process what had happened over a cup of coffee. She was as confused as I still am, and she was sympathetic because she has gone through this with me since the beginning. I’m not sure how I would be coping with all of this without her support. She called later in the day to see how I was doing. She shared some of her thoughts with me and helped me solidify my plan for moving forward.

J isn’t the only person I’ve spoken with since my appointment. Whenever I have an appointment there is a list of people who, if they can’t go with me, I have to talk with about what happened. Everyone was as confused as J and I were. The responses ranged from angered disbelief to calm measured instruction about what I should do next. And the consensus was – as it has been for some time – that the response to my illness has been poor and that my reluctant surgeon may not be the right surgeon for me.

In between these conversations I cried. I’ve been so overwhelmed and distraught that I asked myself an irrational question that pops up when I lose sight of hope: WHY AM I BEING PUNISHED? I know I’ve done nothing to deserve this illness. But at times like this I can’t keep from shouting out to whoever or whatever might be listening out in the universe and asking what I did wrong and how I can fix it. Sadly, no answer ever comes.

No answer ever comes about why there has been so little movement toward making me better and it scares me. It scares me to think that none of the doctors I have seen have enough interest in working to get me better. No answers ever come about whether my reluctant surgeon is right that if I have the surgery it will cause me more harm than good and I will never be pain-free and it scares me. It scares me to think that she is not considering the pain I have now and how it has increased significantly in two years, and how much more it might increase if she does nothing. No answers ever come about why I keep encountering doctors who are so single-minded and unwilling to hear me when I tell them what is happening in my body. It scares me because if I’m in such close proximity to my doctors and they don’t listen to me then why in the world would the universe.

If the universe is listening maybe that’s why I received a call this afternoon from the office of the gynecologist who figured out I was misdiagnosed. He is also the one who has managed my referrals to other doctors and clinics for treatments. His staff heard my distress and squeezed me into a spot to see him next week. My hope is that he will listen to me and help me figure out the next step in untangling the painful mess that is my life.

 

The Beatles – Across the Universe

Gratitude and Creativity: My Heart

I haven’t had an easy life and my illness isn’t making things any easier.

But regardless of the terrible things that have visited my life – even now when I am in pain – my heart always rises above and holds on to goodness. My heart can share and receive love. My heart holds hope and happiness. In fact, my heart continuously grows love and happiness that I can share with others.

I know that love exists in the world for me. It is unconditional, and it makes me feel special and worthy. Because I know I am loved I feel grounded and connected. Knowing this love for me is in the world makes me feel more like a part of the world and that I belong in it. Being loved makes me feel hopeful about life.

For these things I am truly grateful because my heart is always full.

 

Eurythmics – There Must Be An Angel (Playing With My Heart)