Growled Friday. Loud. Like a beast. Angry beast. Picked up a box off floor. Dropped it. Picked it up again. Dropped second time. Noise came from chest. Started as a grunt, maybe a groan. Came out as something primordial and ugly. Pure rage. Scared me.
Where did this creature come from?
Born of pain. Fueled by anxiety. Sustained by brain chemistry malfunction. Happens. Happens a lot lately. How to fix? Trace back to last change. Medication? No. That’s long out of the system. Diet? Eh. Up and down. Not consistent enough to miss carbs, etc.
Mercury in retrograde? Bah. Astrological poppycock.
Still, darkness fell over this Dude on Friday. Reason: Unclear.
Quiet day. Slung sentences. Stacked paragraphs. Watched “Star Wars” show. Listened to the Beach Boys. Life Rule: Impossible to be in bad mood listening to Beach Boys. Help me, Rhonda. Help, help me, Rhonda. Get her outta my heart.
Continue scan for source of anger. Logical progress. Where was latest big change.
Boom. Thursday. Gym.
Increased intensity a half click. Steps were six inches, about an inch-and-a-half more than earlier. Heels burned. Sore feet exercise led to altered stride. Altered stride led to back pain. Back pain led to anger.
Back pain taps vein of fear. Rich, flowing vein of fear. Fear I’ve destroyed this body before expiration date. Fear I’m headed to the scooter. Fear all mobility will be loss. Fear of breaking chairs in people’s homes. Fear of not being able to fit into a seat at public venue. Fear of not being able to walk from parking garage to office. Fear of not being able to stand but for a few seconds. Fear Parents 2.0 will have to bury me.
Adjacent to fear vein? Shame. So much shame. Shame over body. The fatness. The immobility. The disregard for warnings, both obvious and expressed kindly or with malice. Fear of dying with a wheeze instead of a gently letting go.
Fear: See also work stuff. Can’t say more. Want to. Can’t. Rules. Flouted them once. Paid full price for mistake. Not going out that way again.
OK. Anguish identified. Anger still churns. Now what? Anxiety med chased with swig of Diet Mountain Dew. Wait 15 minutes. Text friend. Express anger by text. She bounces back with positive vibes. They don’t work. They can’t. But the talk eases angst.
Pill hits system. Anguish abates.
This is life on anxiety. This is life in physical pain. People ask: Why write this?
Because people still don’t get it. There are people who love me who knew me in high school. Boisterous Dan. Dan the Man. Doc. Fun guy to be around. Acerbic wit. Good writer. “Mr. Congeniality.”
True. To a point. Also true: Terrified and self-loathing with complete absence of confidence.
What’s different between then and now? I stopped hiding that which is also true.
Less boisterous. Fat. Angry. Sad. Introverted. More self-loathing. Maybe not fun to be around.
But this is my life, one that I endure as much as enjoy.
I share. I share so people who don’t walk this path can understand. Empathize.
Am I a drag? Sometimes. Sure. Yes.
I am also trying. I work on it. Empathy. Kindness. Dignity. Humane behavior.
The other day was #WorldKindnessDay on Twitter. Amazon asked a question: Pay a compliment to yourself because you deserve it. Compliment someone else because it’s kind.
I could have burned up Twitter with compliments for others. For myself?
Couldn’t come up with a damn thing.
That is the mindset. That is the sickness.
I know I’m not all bad. I know the rage is a temporary malfunction of brain chemistry.
But, again, we are in the space between emotional reaction and intellectual understanding.
My dial needs adjustment at present.
With love and hope, dpf