There's Power In Anger
Monday, March 23, 2009 Deep inside my gut somewhere, I am a really angry bitch. No kidding. I come off all nice with my founding of Grace in Small Things and knitting and occasionally photographing stuff and the whatnot, and I am generally a fairly decent human being, but I don't let my really angry bitch out to breathe very often, and that will curse me with the freaking cancer again if I'm not careful. Anger left to ruminate and rot in your gut can do that to a person, or so I've been told.
I'm really angry, because I sought help for my hurting mind and heart and could not find it, and when I could not find it, I was blamed for it. I am angry that I was put on a waiting list to see a psychiatrist at the beginning of August 2008 and could not get in to see one before the end of February 2009. I am angry that I went to see five different people over those nearly seven months only to receive a prescription for a drug that my history contraindicates and another three-month long wait before anyone will see me again. When I was unable to go back to work, one doctor told me to think of my husband, because he was probably growing tired of me. He really said that. Another doctor's receptionist told me that psychiatric outpatients were horribly unreliable and that it was our own fault if we didn't get to see doctors in a timely fashion. Yet another doctor told me that I was fine after I doubled-over in his office, hyperventilating and dripping tears on his carpet, after he suggested that this was all in my head. No shit, Sherlock. I am at fault for not seeking help earlier, for not having forms in on one office's schedule when the form-fillers wouldn't even see me in the other office, for supposedly being tiresome to my husband, for not trying hard enough, for being non-compliant, for seeking help when I wasn't showing obvious physical signs of illness such as tearing out my own hair or cutting. Fuck you.
I have incredible fear reactions to things as simple as meeting someone for coffee some days, any thought of my previous employer sends me into fevers and tears, and there are stretches of days in which I can barely get myself moving through exhaustion and body aches. After all this waiting, after all the crying and withdrawal and panic, I have been told that I have a mild depression and that I need to sleep more soundly, and here, take a drug that has strong warnings about causing both suicidal and homicidal tendencies, because screw the fact that my history with those symptoms does not make me a great guinea pig for drugs that are known to cause them.
I am beginning to feel better, though, despite my present lack of pharmaceutical intervention. The darkest end of winter is giving way to spring, and even if that spring so far has been wet and dun-coloured, I can see my own return. I am exercising a little bit each day, taking care to drink enough water, trying to eat better, taking my vitamins, and getting out of the house for walks when I can. I can even feel my creativity swelling. I wake up now with a list of things on my lips that I want to accomplish. Just weeks ago this was such a foreign concept that I wasn't sure I would ever feel alive again.
And strangely, it is all of this good going on that has allowed to me get angry about the last couple of years of my life, because I know that this good is temporary. All the good that happens between now and October is temporary. I struggle all year every year, but October to April nearly kill me, and I am not being hyperbolic. The darkest days of my life happen for months at a stretch every fall/winter/spring, and all I have to look forward to in terms of psychiatric help at the moment is an appointment with a psychiatrist in another two months who might just discontinue seeing me due my noncompliance with his treatment.
I want to be well, and I am taking actions to see that I get as close to it as I can, but I want to be permanently well, not on the verge of ill for months, then tipping into very ill for months, then wash, rinse, and repeat. I want someone to talk to me for more than half an hour before prescribing grossly inappropriate medication. I want someone to take into account my physical health and do bloodwork to back up their findings. I want someone to look at all of me. Hell, I just want someone to look at me, right at me. I've been looked at sideways, down upon, and as though I were invisible, but I have not been looked at directly. Aside from a wonderful therapist who I can no longer afford to see, I have received treatment that I can only describe as irresponsible, and it breaks my heart, because there are so many more like me, so many more who have it far worse than I do, and we find ourselves being prodded through a system in which we are often ignored, pushed aside, given inappropriate treatment based on the most cursory of diagnoses, and then blamed for being in positions in which we did not choose to be.
I am a really angry bitch, and, damn it, I deserve to be. And you know what? I think I'm going to let this bitch out, maybe take her for a run in the park, go bark at shit for no reason, because it feels really fucking good to be this mad. It really does.
Reader Comments (39)
Right on, crayon.
Be angry. Be a bitch. The world will catch up with you, if you want it to.
Here's to barking.
I am a firm believer in motion effecting change. You as motion = better.
Good luck, bitch.
Oh my gosh. This brought tears to my eyes because I know EXACTLY what you are going through. Well, not EXACTLY in the sense of having the same issues but EXACTLY in that I have had the same experiences in regards to my emotional and physical health.
Welcome to drivethrough medicare.
I think that it requires exceptional bravery to admit that you are angry and to own it and take it out for a run. Good for you.
Roar! It's good to let that kind of anger out.
That October thru April horrorshow is one I know well. Fall and Spring are dreadful for me- Fall because it is the time of change when Winter comes, and Spring because coming out of the altered state is hard too.
Maybe someday I can afford the care I'll need to break through this completely.
I guess it is a bit refreshing, in a sick sad world kind of way, to hear that it's the same in Canada as it is in the U.S.? Any way, I feel your anger and respect the rage. Put it out there and let them choke on it.
I'm looking forward to taking your angry bitch out for coffee tonight. :)
You have good reason to be angry. You deserve better. Much better.
bravo schmutzie, we can't get to the other side if we don't "try out" the terrain ;)
i'm convinced that breakdowns are a sign that we are moving in the right direction, especially if we've not allowed ourselves to have them.
I believe you are angry. And that you deserve to be.
I do not believe you are a bitch. Perhaps you only think that because you feel guilty for being angry?
I have had a lot of luck with my own cries for help. The very first person I met was compassionate and interested in helping me.
Grace in large things, I suppose.
Emlyn
Da Robot, I use the word "bitch" because I don't feel guilty about my anger. Bitch is a word that's been demonized too long, and it's one I think we should take back and own.
Awesome post. Right on, sister. Right there with you.
When you're done taking it for a run, buy it a lovely ice cream cone.
A) I am REALLY sorry this is all happening.
B) You are totally right. Rage on.
I guess it's lots easier to see psychologists than psychiatrists. When you have to get meds, the docs you go to are batshit crazy. How scrood is that?
I like to let professionals know exactly how I feel so they can do their jobs better. I would applaud if you were to copy this exact entry, as written, to every professional who has been a hindrance more than a help in this experience. They should know so they can shed a little of the God complex, should they suffer such a conditions.
I'm so sorry all these practitioners have been dicking you over.
I hope you continue to find strength in anger and more important, find true healing.
*careful!hug*
I used to tell my sister that she needed to find her inner bitch. I'm glad you're finding yours. I wish I could give you a for-real hug.
In the midst of a nervous breakdown that required brief hospitalization and forced me to resign from my job, my boss told me that he had had to take Xanex for anxiety issues, but that he went back to work the next day. He guessed he was stronger than me.
I know it's not the same as a mental health professional, someone who is supposed to be helpful, saying that, but man. Why do these people think they know us better than we know ourselves?
I think your inner angry bitch can only help you in this particular situation, and I am glad you are letting her out!!
how far out from cancer are you? I am 9 years out and it wasn't until about 5 years out that I finally got to the point of not being 100% angry all the time. I'm down to about 30%. It's not easy. Not everyone feels really 'grateful' or whatever after cancer. Some of us are just pissed. Suggest you find some things that calm you - booze, drugs, meditation, yoga, whatever. But who the hell am I to tell you what to do right?;-)
Anonymous, I'll being going on two years cancer-free this July, but, man, am I still angry about that. I'm less angry than I was, but it's still there. Sometimes, I'll just yell for no reason when no one else is home, which seems to help.
Be in the anger. You're right, you deserve it. And when you fully allow yourself to feel it, there's so much power in that. I hope your run was awesome and deeply fulfilling.
Also, this may be an exceedingly simplistic suggestion to a fairly complex problem, but - is there any chance you could move somewhere a lot warmer? It just strikes me that Sasketchewan (sp?) seems like not the best place for someone with significant SAD.
First, yay bitch! Bitch is a POWER word. It means you're finding your power. Second, I literally feel your pain, as November through April, for me, are also black as night, wrist slitting horrors if I am not medicated. This year, I finally stopped trying to self-medicate with herbs and light therapy and took the drug they've been offering me for a while. I am so glad I did because the winter was just overcast this year.
Thirdly, your story makes me say America, socialized medicine doesn't work. Run, run in the other direction. Seriously. What you've been through is beyond bullshit. Right now, I can use my work-provided medical benefits to see any number of therapists tomorrow morning. And about 1/3 of them will be good. And it will cost me $30.
Angry bitch sets things in motion.
wishing you wellness beyond measure, and some good luck in finding the right connections in getting the care you need and deserve.
I'm so glad Savia is there for you. It's okay to be an angry bitch every so often. You're only human after all. I don't think it is the being angry that actually feels good though - it's the "acting on it" that feels good I think. Anyway, you have to do what you have to do to feel better. My only advice is to live with no regrets so just don't do anything you'll regret and make sure you do the things that you'd regret not having done. :) I feel terrible that you are being failed by the medical profession though. I hope you will not give up and will continue to try to find what you need. Keep networking! And YOU are worth every bit of effort. Hugs to you!
AMEN! glad you are feeling better. the bitch has to come out in us all sometime.