Stage 2: Anger
**This is the 2nd part of my 5 part blog about my journey through the grief process.
Anger. Frustration. Hate. These have all become “normal” feelings for me; something that I’ve felt almost every day since dad died. I’ve been pissed of any everyone and everything. The slightest provocation has set me off. I’ve been argumentative, more stubborn than usual, and extremely bitter. I recognize these feelings. I also know that it’s the grief, not the actual situation at hand that’s making me feel these things. I feel guilty for my outbursts and know that I should take a few moments to process before reacting, but this burning rage inside of me takes control.
This is the phase that I’ve spent the most time in, and the phase that has caused so much tension in my relationships with others. Getting upset and flipping out about the smallest, pettiest, most ridiculous things has put me in a place where those around just don’t want to be around me. This is the phase that has upset every aspect of my life — my sleep patterns, my eating habits, my drive to keep putting one foot in front of the other. It’s the phase that I need to get through, and I truly am trying, but I seem to be stuck.
I hate the fact that I can get so pissed off so easily. Everything feels like a personal attack. Every bit of criticism grinds my gears. It’s making me feel like a failure; how can I live my life when I feel such horrible things in my very core? It seems like no matter what I try to keep myself centered, something will eventually cross the line where I can’t hold back anymore.
I’m angry with the hospital. I’m angry with the doctors. I’m angry with the fact that every time I try to reach out to ask dad a question, it all hits me again. I’m angry that I won’t get answers to my questions. Was there anything that the hospital should have seen before releasing him? Should the doctors have kept a closer eye on him? Should he have been released so soon afterwards? Did he feel any pain? Was he angry or sad or upset that I didn’t visit him in the hospital because of being tired? I’ve considered trying to get his medical records for this surgery. I want to go through everything with a fine-tooth cone, research everything written in his chart, and find out if I can get any answers. I want to see if it was something that could have been prevented, an oversight on someone’s part. Ultimately, I’m looking for someone to blame. But I know that this will do no good. Even if I were to find something, even if I could find some fault in someone’s judgement and I can blame someone, what good would it do? It won’t bring him back. It won’t ease the hurt that I feel every day. It may provide a little bit of closure, but I’m not entirely sure if it would help things at all.
I don’t want to be so bitter anymore. I don’t want to hold so much hate. I know that it’s slowly killing me; I know that it’s making everyone around me just as miserable as I am. I want to be a better person. I want to find peace and love and acceptance. I want to make sure that I live my life in a way that would have made my father proud of the man that I’ve become. I want…..
Originally published at A Look in the Mirror.