Late yesterday evening, my partner asked, “Why are you so angry?” Of course, I retorted with the same question, which wasn’t the right thing to do! So the question is, am I? Am I an angry man?
I didn’t think I felt angry, but to be honest, I think she was right. I feel pent up, ready to burst and, yes, angry. My problem, now that we have established that, is I have absolutely no idea why or what to do to stop it. My partner has always been very perceptive in picking out my moods. Whether I am just low, anxious or, in this case, angry, she just seems to know. Woman’s intuition? Up until she mentioned it, I hadn’t even given it a second thought, but of course, now, as the early hours tick by, my mind is dissecting the innards for answers—none are forthcoming.
It must be bloody difficult sometimes, living with me. For her, knowing which way to turn each morning is like entering an unknown maze filled with mines. It is not always like that, I’m not all bad, but for her, she just never knows which path to take and what might explode under her feet. How does she put up with it?
The question of why I feel so angry at the moment still stands. The more I think about it, the more frustrated it makes me feel. It makes me ask: which way do I turn? Fight or flight, I think they call it. I am sitting on the fence with this one and although I want to say I am determined to fight, somehow, I can’t quite bring myself to say it formally to myself (if that makes any sense). I suppose that, in a way, I am hoping that by writing my feelings down here, it will let me make a choice, whatever that may be—I don’t really know. Already I am considering contacting my local Mental Health team, if only for an ear. At the very least, a call to my Doctor tomorrow is now necessary and is probably what I should have done a couple of weeks back.
I spoke to my son yesterday and gurgled to my grandson, who was perplexed by this vision of me on a mobile phone. A strange experience for an 11-month-old! Makes me smile though, and eventually, after some very curious looks, I was rewarded by the tiniest smile back—fantastic.
You see, things like that should really make a difference, and they do, of sorts. For a few joyful minutes, I can lose myself chewing the cud with my son and making funny faces to my grandson. It’s great and I love it, but when the call ends, I fall into the pit of my stomach, saddened by the loss of contact. I think the feeling lasts longer than I give it credit for. It is a feeling I have felt many times before, and I am sure I am not alone in that. For me, it almost feels like another weight on my scales of life, and not the side I would prefer it to be on either. Of course, the scales are an indication of balance, and those calls weigh far greater than the ending of them. However, they all add up, and the hard ones just feel a bit heavier at this moment in time.
I am not sure if any of this is making sense, and I am certainly not suggesting that a telephone call has tipped the balance or indeed has absolutely anything to do with how I feel at the moment. It is just a part of my day, a good one, something to cherish, but when I feel the way I do, the silly, bad thoughts come with it. Very annoying! Just adds to the anger.
Actually, as I wrote that, it occurred to me that I may just be angry with myself. There is a whole host of frustrating reasons why this might be true. On this occasion, unfortunately, I will not be numbering them here. Not because I don’t want to, more because I need to think on it and maybe even talk to someone about it. Again, I am not sure, maybe both—no, probably. Something is going on and I need to deal with it. Go and put some coloured items of clothing in your washing machine and then sit in front of it watching them all go around. When it begins to spin, try and keep your eyes on one colour and you have an idea how my mind is at this very moment. A dizzying mix, I think you’ll agree? I’ll let you know when you can turn the machine off, but it won’t be anytime soon, I can, at least, say that much.