Lately behind my quiet shy half smile I present to the world that passes me by, I am filled with this terrible overpowering rage. You ask yourself why the anger Joan, what can you mad at. You are alive, you live. However, I’m afraid that I find I bow my head and say to myself very silently, I feel like I have failed my life. And I ask myself, why I am carrying these unwanted burdens in my heart. I wonder when the anger will fade, when my insides no longer will be knotted with rage and when I will move forward down the road of my new life.
I have so much, more than most others. Handsome, intelligent husband, funny, beautiful children, a warm, cozy home, two silly dogs shedding hair all over chairs, couches. I have friends with open arms and soft shoulders for me to rest my head on. Why now, why does this anger sneak into my heart and plague me so much?
I know my demons are just silly wants and old desires I have dreamed about as I have aged. I feel the possibilities of my old life grow smaller each day as I continue down the fork of the road I’ve been forced to take. It’s all fading away whether I like it or not. Selfishly and conceitedly, I so much wanted to grow up to be recognized VP, CFO, or other stupid acronym and allowed to make a difference in a small but worldly firm. I wanted the recognition for my husband, my children, my dad, for myself….My wife, the Boss – and not just of me, so what’s your mom do….she’s a vp….what’s that…..Hmmm, I think that means she has a Very Pushy loud voice. My daughter’s got a promotion the other day, did you read about it….so what’s she do…..something with numbers……oh, she’s a bookkeeper, huh. I found myself on a sinking ship, bailing water out 10 to 12 hours a day, trying to make a difference. Unfortunately the pain spread its ugly fingers throughout my bones and joints. I could no longer keep up with my colleagues and mentors, they finding found me more like baggage than a shiny resource. I was in pain. And as I tried to dance even faster, my body seized control and said you’ve done enough, no more. This “A” girl, whose Napoleonic tendencies had hoped to be a CFO so long ago, was now a nothing.
How are you feeling, you look really good, Joan. I’m fine thank-you. I, nod my head and move along smiling and chit chatting brightly as I go about my new routine. Behind the smile, I don’t even know what my new routine is. I don’t have the strength anymore to actual say what my heart wants to scream out – and really, no one really, really wants to know. But the rage seethes through me, you know that I don’t work anymore……don’t you know my feet hurt, my hands have needles in them. Open your eyes, my left breast is gone. I look weird, I walk stiffly hamper by sore bones, and the one thing I did really good which was work, I can’t do anymore. I know, I know….I look good.
It’s night, dark. The quiet surrounds me. I am in my rocking chair, hot tears of furor streaming down my cheeks. My left hand clinched into a fist, held over the empty space that once was my breast. Please, oh please…..take this dagger from heart. Just let me be…...let me be me.
