The End is Extremely Fucking Nigh
I’m angry. About so many things. It seeps out of me, pours out of me, explodes like I’m strapped to an explosive vest of hate. Everything makes it worse.
“I’m so sorry.” Fuck you.
“What can I do to help?” Fuck you.
“I’m praying for you.” Fuck you.
“At least it happened early.” Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you.
“It’s God’s will.” Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. God has nothing to do with this.
My husband has no idea what to do with this rage. I try extremely hard not to direct it at him. He does what I ask, holding me, calling and informing family, bringing me tissues, dealing with me being extraordinarily clingy, rubbing my back softly while full-body sobs rock me. But he can’t handle the rage.
I get it. It’s not something he’s used to. Over the last few months in general, he’s noticed an upswing in my anger at things. Stress at work and home (not in any way related to him) have combined to make me slightly more tense, more prone to yelling and swearing, and generally thinning the veneer of the carefree woman he fell in love with and married.
But he doesn’t quite get it. I don’t judge him for being wary. Wanting to make sure I don’t say or do things that could affect my personal or work life permanently. But it’s not on him. It’s on me.
I’m the one dealing with this for the most part. He was excited, he was thrilled, he was nervous and scared, and he was proud. We’d made a baby. But I’m the one that lost it.
And because of that, he can’t fully relate. I love him, and I wouldn’t want to do anything to make him upset, but at the same time, I just don’t care about him right now. He gets to go to work and deal with it quietly. I’m the one still dealing with the mood swings and emotional upheaval of not only a body that still thinks it’s pregnant, but the emotional trauma of losing the reason for it.
So while I love him, and I love his concern for me, when he told me he was worried that I might not be reacting well to losing the pregnancy, my reaction was Fuck you.
How am I supposed to be reacting?! Am I supposed to cry inconsolably? I’m doing that. Am I supposed to hide all the things that remind me of the baby? I did that. Am I supposed to act normally? I can’t do that, and how dare you even suggest it.
Here’s what he doesn’t understand: I am flooded with hormones, going through the stages of grief, having to work (my job is specialized enough there’s no substitute available and my taking time off would cause my coworker to work multiple 12-hour days), showing up at work, being mildly productive, not murdering the children I work with for insensitive comments caused by ignorance, and fighting through a never-ending stream of zombiism to function.
I am not drinking heavily (I poured myself about 1 cup of gin and finished it 4 days later), forgetting to eat, forgetting to feed the cat, saying “fuck work I’m not going in”, or in any other way ignoring my current life. But I’m angry. So fucking what?
#21: Not knowing how to properly express your feelings of rage
#22: Improperly expressing your feelings of rage
#23: Wanting to respond to everything with Fuck you and being unable to because you know they’re just trying to help and they love you
#24: That horrible feeling of knowing your friends and family are way out of their depth when they deal with this and want to do something but sit there like frozen, awkward zombies instead