I Just Don’t Know

Carefree

It’s one thing to sit in a chair with friends and say things don’t bother me.  But when I’m paying someone to help me figure out my life, being flippant is not an option.  The anger has made a vicious comeback lately and fortunately I have been able to keep it directed at myself and not others.

There have been cracks in that wall.  Sticking my thumb into that dam isn’t going to last and the pressure will get to me.

We all agree that people know when I’m upset.  My face can’t hid it any longer.

Most people think it has to do with the cancer.  It doesn’t.  Nothing is going to stop that progression.  We’ve tried everything.  Done everything.  Seen as many people as possible to understand every option available.

I’m back to being very, unendingly angry with myself.

There was a time when running would have emptied my physical symptoms.  Just too tired to care for a few hours.  The only time my shoes see a treadmill is when I walk past one,

So I talk to the therapist and hope it is enough.  She tells me it never will be until I face the central issue.  I’m not to blame for everything that has happened.

Drugs don’t make that go away.  Even my attempts to clear the boards and apologize for things that happened decades ago haven’t lessen the weight.

I wish I could live out whatever time is left without these worries.  I know that having these feelings add to my carefree attitude regarding my own life.  Feelings I shouldn’t have occupy too much space inside my head.

It isn’t enough to tell someone I look forward to knowing the answer to one question – “Is there an afterlife and will I be able to spend it with my daughter.  Getting a chance to know her that I didn’t get while we were both on this planet?”

So welcome back anger, you useless bastard!

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