Inviting my anger in for a cup of tea

Picture of grey and white cat in a box, with his head sticking out staring at the camera in anger

I saw a tweet that read “Anger also shows up to protect you from grief.” (@ehimeora) and it struck me.

I don’t think I was a particularly angry person before it all happened. Until the age of 28, I could count the times I’d gotten really angry on one hand. I wasn’t one to enjoy anger — it was draining and sad. I tried not to be bitter, to see the positive in things. And after years of therapy, I tried very hard not to victimise myself — because that’s the worst.

And then my dad fell ill. And then my dad died.

I’m so fucking angry I can barely contain it. I don’t know who to be angry at, I know better than to be angry at God. So I’m just angry at everything and everyone else now. It started as anger at the people who I thought would be there for me but weren’t. I believe I could have brushed it off before. Understood that death and grief make people uncomfortable. Old Mitta would have been reasonable, not holding onto it. She knew there was a bigger picture.

But this Mitta is so fucking furious she can barely contain it. I snap at people, I’m bitter and I genuine have stopped caring about many people in my life. Like I don’t want anything bad to happen to them but I honestly do not care about the past that. I know I cannot blame people forever, I know this yet I do it.

I have no tolerance or patience for people or circles that no longer serve me, and I used to be SO chill. Sometimes I wonder if I have lost the best parts of myself.

I’m just sad, bitter and angry and I hate it.

I’m angry at the world for continuing to go on like everything is normal? I’m angry at people because I feel so alone. I’m drowning in how alone I feel and I know that’s my own fault. I struggle to ask for help, I push people away because their brand of care is not what I need and I can’t bring myself to say it. I do have loved ones who shower me with more care and comfort than I could ever deserve.

Yet, I feel alone. So so alone. Isolated in this grief.

I’ve never been one to dwell on circumstances or need anyone. But I found myself in those months of my Dad’s illness wishing against sanity that I had a partner. Someone to lean on and share the hardship with. I have hoped against hope for someone to just appear, for that bit of comfort. For a hug when the tears wouldn’t stop. It feels almost cruel to feel this sad and this alone.

I’m angry at my life for not being something better. I’m angry at myself because I should have been someone better.

Anger and grief, go hand in hand don’t they.

I can’t see how I would ever be able to bear it without the anger. When someone you love is ripped away from you — that damage is undoable. There is nothing in the world that can undo that pain. It’s a neverending pain because how can you comprehend that they are gone forever. That this is it. That you can do nothing about it? Like everything changes and I’m supposed to be ok? Fuck that.

I want to scream. Often I’m sitting in public or doing something mundane and I just want to scream, to go break some stuff. To get it out. I’m so restless these days. I can’t sit still. I can’t make up my mind as to what I want to do. But I want to do something stupid, something reckless. Something so ridiculous. Because I want to feel something. Anything. Anything but this grief that’s consuming me. It’s relentless. It’s an open door with no end. It’s a heartbreak that my heart cannot contain.

Everything is different after. Everything.

Happiness is different. It is fleeting, it is momentary and it is bittersweet. No matter how happy I am in a moment, my heart is still breaking. My dad is still dead.

Sadness is more intense because it has become more familiar, it’s like a second skin. I no longer fight it but invite it in for a cup of tea.

Nothing feels the same, the world has moved, I am changed and everything is just slipping from my grasp.

But I’m thankful for this anger. For without it, I would not be able to get up most days. Because it fuels me and keeps me going. It’s not healthy but what is healthy in the world of grief?



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Mitta Thakrar

Mitta Thakrar

Trying to make sense of my mind by writing things down.