I’m finding it hard not to have a bitterness, a hatred and a total sense of injustice, flood my being right now. I fight it but it’s there. I listen to it and it all encompasses but at least it feels heard. And it’s fucking fair enough too, considering.
This is my constant journey of feelings though, of learning that I don’t need to work out why I’m feeling what I am, I just am. And to let them be here. To let them shine but not intrude. To let them guide me but not run the show. To let them tell me what they need to, but also to realise that sometimes they aren’t here to tell my anything – they’re just here to be.
This bitterness and hatred and a fuck load of festering loathing, is here because there is noone here to look after me. There is noone here to care for me, to tend to my needs, to nurture, to feed, to provide me with all the things that I need so I can just be. It feels so fucking shit. And so fucking unfair. And I really need it. I really need someone here. I really need someone to just do my washing up. I just need someone to ask me what I need, that isn’t me. I just need someone to tidy my room so I don’t use up the time I have upright with my back, to do all the fucking mundane tasks I have to do.
I find the anger trips up and floods onto people. Not literally – I haven’t dumped it on anyone, but I am completely livid and pissed off and motherfucking bitter towards friends…there’s like a bitter hate that festers towards them. That’s projected upon them. I end up feeling flooded with hatred and feelings of let down because (this is how my feelings and dialogue goes):
a) they have boyfriends or mums or tight friendships, so they don’t need me and are looked after, and I’m not.
b) they can’t or don’t just drop everything to help me – because they don’t care enough or they just don’t want to or I am a big mega massive major burden
I then wonder whether i have any friends and all this feels irrelevant and I just feel overwhelmingly lonely. But there is something to be said about feeling such overwhelming bitterness when friends are healthy and they’re not here to help you. When they are busy, yes, but they have the beans to go out and do stuff…so they could come out and see you. Help you. Support you.
This stuff is hard to share and have here. It makes me forget I have anyone. It makes me feel ashamed because I know it’s not true. And I know that there are all these motherfucking self soothing dialogue I can do, and have with myself about why they’re not here – it doesn’t mean they don’t care and it doesn’t mean they’re not there.
The injustice and unfairness feels overwhelming and it feels really fucking true, because…well, it probably is. It definitely is. Like my herbalist said to me a while ago when I first has my back show up with two slipped discs (my poor bod), I probably do need someone to come and look after me. I probably am depleted. I probably am in need of some deep deep care from outside me.
And in many ways I got it. I got a big chunk of it when it first happened, in lots of many ways from lots of different people. But now the quiet time is here and I’m in a transition between homes and in a new part of the city and well, I feel like I can’t cope. I feel like I can’t fucking manage the constant holding it all myself. I can’t fucking focus on washing up when I can hardly stand up. I can’t hold the fort with consistency in the kitchen – the tidiness, the cleanliness, the order. I just want it to all go to shit because I want to too. Because i can’t go on keeping it from not going to shit. I want to go to shit because I’m finding it hard to do anything. I’m finding it hard to do anything more than my basic needs. I’m finding it hard to find focus and stick with it, whatever ‘it’ is. I’m finding it hard to not just feel like I already have fallen to shit.
There feels like bigger things. My back. My poor back. My happiness. The world. The destruction that’s happening. The loneliness I’m experiencing. The collective loneliness we all are experiencing. The earth.
Not the fucking washing up.
I never did have anyone to fucking look after me when I was a kid so no wonder I’m going to feel angry that I still don’t have someone here. And I also know that these are all feelings that everyone experiences to some extent – the desperate need for support and for care when you’re ill. And I am feeling it majorly right now.
Beneath this desperate need is a compassion. A new found one. One towards myself and the world and everyone in it. Towards the friends I ask for support but they then can’t give it. There’s a warmth and an awareness there that hasn’t been there so much before. Beneath my desperateness and intense feelings, is a loving openness and gentleness and compassion…beneath the fire are the coals that are bringing solidity and are a platform for my grief and for my sorrow. My tears. The fire is the frustration and the anger and the completely, but the coals burn through and are unconditionally there. To support as I grieve and to support as my fire rages outwards, rather than inwards.
They’re these just to support. I need a bumper pack of those coals right now.