The Sound and the Fury

I am a sharp and pointed thing. My tongue is quickly poison-painted. Fighting talk? My words are weapons, and I’ve used them to wound. There is a cruel satisfaction in leaving a barb in an opponent’s tender places.

I am not proud of this. But it is my truth.

photo by sedeer

Over time, I have learned to wrap my rage in cooling sheets and camomile. Now I am a real-life-card-carrying-grown-up-woman-lady-with-responsibilities I practice caution. Hurting people is not Nice, you see. It is Unkind. I want to be loving and nurturing and other good things. I believe in Kind. ‘Kind,’ I say to my living children, ‘be Kind.’ That’s the most important thing, to be Kind.

But sometimes all becomes hot. My rage bubbles and boils. Kind evaporates rapidly, and all that’s left is the salty residue of Mean. And that’s when I unleash the wicked tongue. And it is merciless.

I often thought that grief would make me good. But it has just made me more of who I am. Damn it.

I see a counsellor. We talk about the Mean. We talk about the way that seems to be the essence of me when all the rest is boiled away. We talk about a special, stop-shouting-at-hapless-acquaintances strategy.

‘TRY THIS’ she says (she is very loud my counsellor)

‘WHEN SOMEONE DOES SOMETHING THAT YOU FIND UNACCEPTABLE, THINK “ASSERTIVE” NOT “AGGRESSIVE.” YOU SIMPLY FRAME IT LIKE THIS:

‘WHEN YOU.... ‘(insert description of provocative behaviour. Note I said  description. Not judgement)

‘I FEEL .....’ (insert feeling. It is OK to have feelings. It is OK to name your feelings. But do not blame.)

‘NEXT TIME I WOULD PREFER THAT YOU....’ (give a suggestion or a solution. Something constructive.)

‘Thank you so much’ I say ‘What a delightful and pleasant way to interact. That would be a better way to deal with my rage. I shall try it as soon as I am given the opportunity.’

And so, I do. And in situations that do not involve dead babies, I promise you I am being the MOST constructive, assertive, shiny-eyed Kind person I can be.

But then...

But then...

Then all becomes hot. My rage bubbles and boils. Kind evaporates rapidly and all that’s left is the salty residue of Mean.

‘WHEN YOU...  appropriate someone else’s dead baby tragedy to illustrate what a heroic, selfless paragon of virtue you are for taking round a frozen lasagne once and then never speaking to them again...’ (Judgmental, moi?)

‘I FEEL... like stabbing this pencil up your nose and into your brain.’ (What? I’m just naming my feelings.)

‘NEXT TIME I WOULD PREFER THAT YOU... did not bring the worst of yourself to dance all over the most painful part of my heart, but rather fucked off and bothered someone else with your solipsism.’ (Well... it IS a suggestion. They don’t HAVE to do it.’)

And there I am. Mad mama of a lost baby. Raging, raging at an unfair world where lasagne doesn’t make it better and all the assertiveness training I could have won’t take that that salty Mean away.

Are you angry in your grief? Do you ever boil over, or does your rage simmer quietly? What soothes your temper, and where can I get some?

Comments

[sweetsalty kate]

You made me slap-five giggle with that totally supreme meanness. But then I frowned because the only kind of person who slap-five giggles at totally supreme meanness is, generally speaking, supremely mean themselves.

What can you do? Shrug. We all need to be better human beings. I'd rather vow to work on softening the edges of my mind and mouth rather than, say, vowing to work on my personal hygiene. Cause I'd rather metaphorically stink than literally.

[Erica]

I love this post, for the anger and for the funniness of it. I'm still angry, often and often. I keep trying to work on not swallowing it all and then spewing it up onto the people who are closest to me and who don't deserve it even though proximity and, often, trust make them easy targets. I rather wish I could borrow some of your quick-wittedness, Jess, because my mean comebacks usually boil down to babble and flight - something like: "You...you...you. I can't believe you... I need to go. I need to go NOW."

And if a person is going to brag about bringing one of the grieving a hot dish, shouldn't s/he come up with something more decadent and difficult to make than lasagna? I love lasagna, but I wouldn't brag about it. Pot roast and mashed potatoes with roasted veggies, micro-brewed ginger ale and homemade chocolate cake or creme brulee, maybe. And perhaps a bottle of 15-year-old Scotch. Maybe for that you could brag a teeny, tiny bit.

[Paula]

Yes, yes, YES! Pencil in the nose straight to the brain. I get it. I hate that I feel hate but well you know "it is what it is". I would like to tell some people that I can no longer care about their endless mundane complaints about this and that. I would also like to tell them that I consider the lot of them at this moment to be a bunch of inconsiderate a-holes, but I think maybe I will try to use some of your counselors suggestions. Hmmm bite your tongue, hold it in, don't say it, I will have to continue to tell myself.

I also have to agree with Erica, a good bottle of liquor or a purely decadent chocolate cake would be so much better right now than Lasagna.

Paula

[Sally]

Am I angry? Hell yes. I don't really know what to do about it either, because common decency says after three years, the anger should have subsided by now. I'm still angry at my caregivers for the way they failed me, I'm angry at friends and family for saying the wrong thing, sometimes even saying the right things or for saying nothing at all. Some people, no matter what they did, it was wrong. And I got angry. I told my aunty to fuck off one day very soon after it happened and I don't think she'd ever used the f-word in her life.
So really, I'm just here to say - yep, me too.
xo

[Leslie]

Oh my gosh Jess. Yes. This is me. Middle name is pissedoffmotherfuckingbitchwhowillripyouanewoneifyoucrossmypathonthewrongday. Really.. it works for me these days. I am working on this though. Not much progress made but ahh wouldn't it be nice to be the one they refer to as the 'zen' BLM? Yes, but alas.. not yet.

[Halley | Online Printing]

I too have a wicked tongue that could be very merciless and I'm not proud of it. Because when fury smokes, it covers all of me until I no longer see what's right.

[mirne]

Hello mad mama of a lost baby. I am mad mama of three lost babies. How are you??

The anger is more rage these days. It's constantly frothing away inside me, and sometimes it just explodes out of me. And woe behold anyone who gets in its way!

I'm angry that my children are all dead. I'm angry that there is no explanation. I'm angry at the doctors for never taking my concerns seriously. I'm angry at all those people who thought I was being "over cautious" ie. a paranoid mother. I'm angry at all those people who said nothing. I'm angry at all those friends who didn't know what to do or say, so they did and said nothing. I'm angry at the friend who said, "well at least you know you can get pregnant". I'm angry at my sister who was snooty because one funeral was family only, and her boyfriend didn't get to come. I'm angry at my MIL who is still so overwhelmed by the death of her three grandchildren, that she can't talk to her son, the father of his three dead children, about it.

But.Most.Of.All. I am angry at all those mums and dads out there who have living families. Because.I.Don't. Because I had a family and it was taken from me.

Nothing soothes my temper. My rage is sometimes uncontrollable. And I don't care if I'm being "hurtful" to others, or being "impolite". I don't care any more. Being "unkind" ... pfft.

I don't know if this rage, this overwhelming anger at the world, will ever stop. I don't think I will ever be the same again. I know my life has completely changed. And every day I wake, my children are still dead.

[Mary's Christy]

I wish I were that witty. Kind and Sweet used to be who I was. Those words are so soft, and I can't be soft anymore.

Just last night my (very small) class at the Christian College was discussing difficult ethical questions. The problem presented was a premature infant on a respirator...do you ever consent to take them off? The 2 Moms of healthy babies were appalled Of course not! they protested. I, of course, argued the other side. I thought I was rather eloquent but noticed that my professor moved on rather quickly. That night I was still so worked up that I had trouble getting to sleep. Maybe I wasn't as cool and collected as I thought.

[niobe]

There's one person I rage uncontrollably at. One person I will never, ever forgive, even though I tell myself that she did the best that she possibly could under very difficult circumstances.

And, of course, that person is, um, me.

[Mary Beth]

Oh hell yes I get angry. Am angry. But I tend to keep all that anger locked away inside and, gem that I am, save it for those who least deserve my wrath. For awhile there I was really blowing my fuse at poor postal clerks and customer service representatives.

But the friends I immediately think of who DO deserve my ire? I've quietly cut them out of my life. Like the one who, while I was pregnant after Calla's death and she was newly out from delivering her third healthy baby, said to me while strolling with all her brood at the zoo, "Boy, people probably look at me and think I've never heard of the Pill."

Bitch, please.

Or the other friend who called me for advice on her home birth who, after I patiently explained that I'd probably opt for the motherfucking antibiotic after testing positive for Group B strep, told me there's a one in who-the-fuck-knows chance of the baby actually contracting strep soooo . . .

So why da fuck'd you call me then? To gloat?

No, I keep all that anger inside. And save it for my boxing class.

[Sarah]

‘I FEEL... like stabbing this pencil up your nose and into your brain.’ HELL YES!

I have learned in exactly 2 years tomorrow, that hate is a waste of energy and effort. I would much rather be a kind gentle woman. But, sometimes, Meanness feels good. So good, that it leaves you feeling refreshed.

But, I simmer quietly, and boil over much like Vesuvius.

[Catherine W]

I always thought that the most important thing was to Be Kind. But it is too bloody hard to be kind when somebody is waving a frozen lasagne under your nose as some kind of cure all for grief whilst dancing around on those painful places. I do think a switch to Erica's proposed menu is the very least they could do.

'I often thought that grief would make me good. But it has just made me more of who I am. Damn it.'

Too true. I was fairly self loathing before I gave birth to the girls far too early and afterwards, well, I was absolutely livid with this woman that had her let children be born too soon, that had let the ventilator be switched off and even more angry with that complacent person that believed it would never happen to her. So angry that I wanted to travel back in time and stab a pencil up my own self satisfied nose.

I do occasionally get riled by the thoughtless comment or the unfeeling response, with a special little extra portion of rage for those people who believe that nothing like this could ever possibly happen to them, because they 'love their children too much' or some other such tripe. Probably because that person used to be me. The protective effects of love are over-rated, just ask any of us here. Stick love up against illness, accidents and sheer bad luck and it will always come off the worst. But, as a far wiser lady (aka Merry I believe) once told me, you don't know until you KNOW. And you have to forgive people for that. For not knowing. Just pat them on the head and walk away with a sigh, a wry smile and a little prayer that they will remain unknowing.

But mainly I'm angry on her behalf. I'm not entirely sure who (or what) I am angry with but I know why I am angry. Because she was robbed. What are the odds of that specific person being conceived in the first instance, of getting that far, of surviving such an early birth and making it to the NICU, of making it through all those hours fighting for her life and for what? To die anyway. Slowly. And hopefully, hopefully not too painfully. That still makes me mad as the proverbial cut snake. There is no soothing that one.

Mary's Christy, I think I could summon something up for those ladies in your class. Just let me at 'em. I'm sure you were eloquent and I admire you for arguing the other side under those circumstances.

[Monique]

Yup. Nodding (and laughing) along.

[Jess]

Phew! I was nervous about pressing publish on this one. Anger is so... unpalatable sometimes. I had half a fear that you might all give me the side-eye then saunter away whistling in an embarrassed fashion.

I like you all a lot. That is all.

[Branwen]

Yes. yes. YES! I loved this post. I LMBO!!

Spot on, Jess. Spot on.

[eliza]

My anger was present, pushed down, exploded and I seem to repeat that a lot. There were people, individuals I was angry at, but most of it has faded away over the last two years. I wasn't angry, only momentarily sad, when all my friends and none of my family acknowledged Gabriel's second birthday, and then I shrugged. Life, it goes on for everyone and I'd barely stopped for it myself.

I notice that around dates or times, the tension builds and peaks and comes out in mean snippets towards unsuspecting people. A sneer at my husband, a disproportionate response to the woman who called me for the third time at work. And somewhere in the midst of that righteous, frothing, foaming, red-hot anger comes the unexpected admission whispered underneath - "I miss him." And I deflate like a pricked balloon and slink off to hide in shame.

I try to get better about this, about recognizing it, but alas.

I do find myself redirecting anger at people. While I think it is justifiable for me to feel angry in these instances, it's what Catherine (and Merry) said. They don't know, they don't understand and no matter how much I wish them to, they can't unless it happens to them. So the anger is ultimately fruitless and only makes things worse.

[Jeanette]

I want to be angry, but I'm afraid I've buried the anger so deep that it can't ever come up because if it did, it might be just far too explosive.
I often wonder if the reason I feel so stuck sometimes is because I can't let that anger out.

[Jill (Fireflyforever)]

About 2 months out, I got ANGRY. I was really surprised - I didn't expect too. My phlegmatic, damp, northern genes seemed more suited to melancholy wallowing than explosive rage. But, actually, it felt GOOD ...really, really good. It felt productive - keeping the rage blazing was something to do, you know? It simmered mostly, with occasional furious outbursts (usually monologues, it has to be said. I don't think I've abused, or threatened with pencils, too many innocent bystanders in the last three years. I have stayed angry (at no-one in particular, at everyone, at God and at life) for almost three years. It's waned a little, these past months but I really didn't find anything that took the heat. I just had to let it burn itself out and I know it's still there, it could ignite at any time.

[Mother Henna aka Kara]

OMG, Jess, you had me falling out of my chair by the time I read "I feel like stabbing this pencil up your nose..." I know many bereaved parents who wrestle with anger -- me being one of them -- there are times when Hawk simply takes me by the shoulders and steers me in the other direction because he can see it rising to the surface. While I don't often bother entangling with the other person anymore -- because it seems so completely useless to engage the clueless -- it is helpful to let my rage run its course, scream in pillows, throw dishes (pieces used to make mosaics later). It just seems a basic part of being messily human. Afterall, even Mister Rogers has a song called, "What do you do with the mad that you feel?" :) Anyway, just sending hugs to you! xoxoox k-

[Nika M.]

I don't like me when I'm angry. But it happens. And when people make me angry, I get even angrier that they were able to make me angry. I hate that my emotions can be so uncontrollable, but yet feel so controlled by someone else's doings.

I had a hard time readjusting to the workplace after losing my son. My pregnancy and my work were so entangled that it hurt to be there. Everything made me angry. Especially the people. One guy babbled on about how I was using my pregnancy as as excuse to not get certain qualifications done. I forget what else he babbled about. I stopped listening at some point and anger took over, and then anger gave way to rage. And as I was digging my nails into my arms to keep from choking him with the extension cord hanging around my shoulder, I was coming up with some really painful, really creative ways of hurting this guy. The scary part was that I had become so used to trying to control the anger that I was able to do so with a smile on my face. There's nothing scarier than a calm, smiling face that is hiding such an angry, raging, violent heart that wants to do such violent things to you, while you are so completely oblivious to her even being bothered.

I should stop trying to stifle it to that point. People should at least know that they are angering me, right? That way we can potentially do something about it, right?

[Cathy]

Borrowing from Tash's blog, a comment which I haven't been able to get it out of my head:

"Anger is the bridge that we build over the chasm of sadness."

I'm trying to decide what I think. I am definitely sad - but I am so, so, so angry that I don't know if it can all be a sorrow bridge.

I am angry that the world is broken and broken things happen to broken people. I am even more angry that some people pretend the broken didn't happen and isn't happening and shouldn't matter and isn't real. There are a whole lot of things I can swallow more readily than heartless denial. Even grief. That I prefer.

Netflix says our taste is Dark, Gritty, and Fight The System. Understatement.

Jess, I hope you'll publish whether you're angry or anything else. Frankly, the anger is very welcome. I don't want to think I'm alone out here - and I'm not.

Cathy in Missouri

“Still, it doesn't do to murder people, no matter how offensive they may be.”
― Dorothy L. Sayers, Five Red Herrings

[Heather]

Ok, so let's see...there are 21 comments and the article above...so I'll say ditto x22. For me its like I went through all of those stages of grief on a repeat cycle for what felt like forever and then this last round I got stuck in the anger stage. Like a broken record. Anger. Skip. Anger. Skip. Anger. Skip. But like so many of you, I'm just angry at everyone and everything and no one and nothing all at the same time. I send most of my anger God's way I think, then what's left go to my dad and my sister (because they take their children for granted and use them up until there is nothing left for anyone else) and anyone "annoyed" for being pregnant or complaining about being a Mom. And though on occasion I boil over and rage AT a particular person, most of the time its stuffed down and smothered with a Margarita, soda, food or anything else that seems unhealthy and bound to cause larger issues later in life...and I just don't care (mostly). But after 2 yrs 9months I think the anger just simmers underneith, a steady bubble...just waiting for some idiot to come along and be stupid.

On the other note...a close friend of mine just joined the club, and though I made her Kabobs and grilled veggies I so wish I'd have thought to take her a bottle of Vodka instead! Because frankly, I found the Vodka way more useful in the early days than food.

Besides, its in the bible... ;)

Proverbs 31:6-7
6 Give strong drink unto him that is ready to perish , and wine unto those that be of heavy hearts. 7 Let him drink , and forget his poverty, and remember his misery no more.

[Cathy]

"Besides, its in the bible... ;)

Proverbs 31:6-7
6 Give strong drink unto him that is ready to perish , and wine unto those that be of heavy hearts. 7 Let him drink , and forget his poverty, and remember his misery no more."

Heather! Thoroughly righteous - love it.

Cathy in Missouri

[Alyson]

Oh, yes, I get mad. We just lost our baby a little over a week ago. My sister came down to visit from Wisconsin for a few days (we live in Tennessee). She seemed sad at one point, so I asked her how she was doing. I was trying to be thoughtful. "Oh me? I'm fine!" she said. "You know - it's kind of like the friend of a friend died."

WHAAAT? It was such an inaccurate description of the situation that I could have hit something. Or somebody. Your sister's CHILD died. You have a child yourself. You should be able to empathize at least a little bit. Even if not - even if that's really how you feel (and I supposed she's entitled to feel however she wants) - do you have to TELL me?

I managed by biting my tongue, and running around and cleaning things, even though I was supposed to be resting because I was so recently postpartum. It was the only way I could cope. Oh - and for about two hours I barked at my sister whenever she got within five feet of me.

Eventually I calmed down enough to act normally, but (clearly) I'm still mad.

Thank you for this post - it made me laugh and reminded me that I'm not alone.