Sometimes the anger is overwhelming, almost blinding. It’s to be expected, I suppose. There are stages of grief even when you are mourning your former self, and no one can stay calm and collected forever.

Stage of Grief: Anger. Stage of Life? Unknown.   Sometimes the anger is overwhelming, almost blinding. It's to be expected, I suppose. There are stages of grief even when you are mourning your former self, and no one can stay calm and collected forever.

When I woke up unable to walk 17 months ago, I was terrified. Stump doctors and no answers magnified that fear like a loud speaker shrieking every worry into my ringing ears. Worry, fear, unknown diagnoses looming ahead. The rollercoaster more or less jumped the track and crashed in a burning hellfire. But I never got angry. And I think my doctors have been waiting; watching like a kid overfilling a water balloon and waiting for it to burst.

I just didn’t.

I didn’t give up when I wasn’t walking in 6 months, or 8. I didn’t give up when driving by January became driving by who the hell knows. I smiled through painful physical therapy, and becoming a human pincushion even though giving blood makes me physically ill. I kept looking to my brighter tomorrow, even when that tomorrow never seemed to come. Ever the optimist.

And one day, not particularly special in anyway, I got angry. I was angry I couldn’t get my socks on when I had been able to the day before. I got angry that the inflammation improved just to show us the osteonecrosis wasn’t even close. I got angry that I can’t drive, am still housebound, still can’t walk more than 4000 steps in a day without pain, worried this is as good as I get, emotional word vomiting as I seethed and boiled in a painful and heart broken fury that this is my life.

At times, I worry I will feel this way forever. Me. The silver lining on every cloud girl. Me. The girl who never gives up. Now, I can’t see the point past the blurry frustration I feel at life. I’m told this is “normal.” As if being “normal” will make this better, less terrible, or less frustrating.

The normal range of human emotions for the given situation they say. Who wouldn’t feel angry? Who can possibly stay optimistic forever when in chronic pain? But I am not an angry person by nature, just a pragmatic and slightly sociopathic one. Just one with a temper quickly to flare and more quickly to calm.

I had no idea it was there, building, balling up and getting ready to pounce out of me. Now it is all consuming. I feel sad or Seriously-SMASH with no in between.

And all I can hope is that this too can’t last forever.