Yesterday I felt so angry.
Angry at the injustice of it all.
Angry at being sick and tired of always being sick and tired.
Angry at others who don't cherish their loved ones.
Angry at others who don't live life like he did, and therefore were in my opinion, I am ashamed to admit, less worthy of breathing air. Air which he could breath instead.
Angry with myself for not cherishing him as much as I could have.
Angry at anyone who hurt him.
Angry that I can't remember the sound of his voice.
Angry that I can't remember where our camcordings are so that I can listen to his voice.
Angry that even if I found the camcordings, I probably wouldn't be able to watch them because I'd get so damn upset.
Angry that the person on "Who Wants to be a Millionaire" didn't know the answer to the question.
Angry that people say, "You know where I am" to me. Yes I do. You are lying next to your husband in bed, not knowing this fear and pain and loss. Angry that they say this because it makes them feel better not me.
Angry that someone had the audacity to moan about her husband to one of my widow friends. Angry that someone can be that fucking insensitive. Angry that she will probably conveniently forget what she has said instead of doing the decent thing and apologizing. Angry that it is my friend who is left smarting from these words, yet the other person is, yes ... lying next to her husband in bed, not knowing this fear and pain and loss.
Angry that I can predict people's behaviour and that they never let me down. Angry that this is a travesty in terms if I ever heard one. Angry that they think I don't know. Angry they think I'm not going to deal with it in my own way. Angry that they then harassed me if I didn't answer their calls because they needed their guilt or fear of being "caught" assuaged.
Angry at the text I received 6 months ago, and at the fact that the person who sent it thinks it's ok to re-write history and pretend that it didn't happen.
Angry that people have assumed that I am getting better, because I sure as hell don't feel like I am.
Angry that my neighbour disconnected Sky to my bedroom because he was moving the wires in my living room without being invited to do so.
Angry that my neighbour borrowed Cliff's wheelbarrow without asking and hasn't returned it.
Angry that people don't think of the consequences of their words, actions or lack of the same and the devastating long-lasting effect it has on me, on top of this god-awful unspeakable agony.
Angry that another neighbour rang my doorbell to enquire as to whether her husband had been in touch because she didn't know where he was. WTF would he tell me? Angry that she is so self-obsessed and selfish that she only asked how I was as an after-thought, after she bored me with her minor complaints which she has brought on through her own behaviour. Angry that she only ever visits if she wants something. Angry that she has never, not once come round with a dinner, a kind word, or an offer to run an errand or ask if I want something bringing back when she goes shopping.
Angry that I have to ask for help, when people, I felt, should intuitively know, by magic, exactly what would be helpful for them to do.
Angry that someone has, under the guise of "being concerned" dumped even more pressure on me. Where does she get off?
Angry at the world.
Angry at people who drive too slow.
Angry that all our dreams were smashed into smithereens.
Angry that he died.
Angry that someone keeps telling me she knows how I feel. How the fuck can she. She does not.
Angry that I was angry.
Angry that I am not comfortable with the feeling of anger.
Angry that people talk shit.
Angry that I hate the world.
Angry that I hate my life.
Angry that he hasn't come to get me.
Angry that I feel almost paranoid because I can't afford to be taken for a ride, financially or emotionally.
I could go on ...
Today I am exhausted but feel better for having vented, at times by screaming invariably irrational statements at the top of my voice whilst walking around the house cleaning and tidying.
But still, I don't like the emotion. I am not at home with it. It doesn't fit in my body with ease at all.