After the anger

Something happens when you try to control your emotions for days and days. When you don’t try to feel the pain, because it’s just too big. When you don’t try to feel anything in fact, just because you have to keep on going. When you don’t want to feel the anger that’s starting to boil up inside again, because it’s all so damn unfair. And when you feel very, very alone.
What happens is that, sooner or later, you’ll explode.
I wish I could just break down and cry – that would be so mush easier. People understand sadness. People comfort you. They say “here here”, and give you a Kleenex and a cup of tea. But when you feel really angry, people just look at you as if you’re a freak. As if you’ve done something wrong. So on top of all the shitty feelings you already have, you can feel guilty for being angry as well. Because no matter how you twist and turn it : when you’re angry, you do and say things you’ll regret.
So here I am. Angry. Angry because for more than two years, my life is being overshadowed by that illness of my mom. Angry because I don’t know how much longer this will last. Angry because I feel so useless. Because I’m so damned alone, because it’s just me. Angry because I’m fed up of being surrounded by shiny happy people, who’s life is revolving around new life and future – instead of around sickness. Angry because I’m taking care of everybody, but no one’s taking care of me.
At my parents’, I’m the strong one. I have to. I look after my dad (who’s at the end of his wits), I look after my mom (who’s both emotionally and physically exhausted). I tell my dad to eat, I bring him croissants in the morning. I keep a happy face, even when I have to wear mouth masks and god knows what else if I want to see my mom.
And then when I come home, I have to take care of myself. And that’s where it all goes wrong. I can’t anymore. I need someone who takes me out for a walk, who puts me under a hot shower, who feeds me, and who puts me in front of a happy movie, wrapped in a blanket, who tells me that yes, indeed, my life is shit at the moment, and they understand how I feel.
Tonight, instead of all the above, I ended up at Mc Donalds with my favourite six-year old. Whose happy face and kisses were as good as a blanket. Afterwards, his mom spoiled me with tea, popcorn, and icecream. And girly movies. I didn’t have to ask for any of it. She just did. She took care. Of me.