Yesterday, I had another meltdown. This one was slow and quiet and all the more poisonous for that. Crying jags and panic attacks at least pass after a while, and are readily understood by Lisa Costello or anyone else who happens to be in range at the time. Undirected resentment and sullen silence can be mistaken for a lot of other things, none of them very helpful.
It was a difficult day in some ways. I ran into an intractable Quicken problem generated by my bank switching online banking platforms. (See my previous post about being a strange attractor customer service issues.) Email correspondence passed at some depth about the search for a clinical trial that might prolong my life a bit more. I spent time focusing on my funeral arrangements, including a tense conversation with Mother-of-the-Child about that. There were parenting issues. There were minor misunderstandings with the people around me. Lisa at one point confided to me that she’d be feeling a certain kind of emotional sensitivity for a while to come. My response was, “You mean for the rest of my life?” That didn’t sit well with either of us. Mostly, there was and is me dying of cancer.
That last one? It never ends.
So by yesterday evening, I was feeling strung out and unhappy and pissy and strange. A chance remark pushed me over the edge, and I did not recover until this morning.
It’s so damned hard, being careful of my own emotions and others. The people around me don’t feel free to express their negative thoughts for fear of upsetting me. I don’t feel free to express my negative thoughts for fear of upsetting my loved ones, family and friends. We all dance this strange dance of toxic consideration like elephants on ice, slipping and occasionally crashing.
Last night I crashed. I want to tell myself to get over it, but that option is long gone. I want to apologize to Lisa, which I have fully. I want to not feel this way, but that option is long gone as well.
Frankly, I’d rather have the screaming and the tears, then get over it and move on.