The Ugly Truth

Warning: If you’re looking for a cheery, inspirational post, come back some other time. This one promises to be dark, ugly and depressing. Still reading? Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

I’m angry.

I’m angry that life is so bleeping hard sometimes.

This is what a fever of 104.3 looks like. Blah.

I’m angry that swearing is naughty, because it feels really good to say those words at the moment.

I’m angry that neutropenia exists.

At the clinic, wondering why my baby feels so awful.

I’m angry that my daughter, Willow, can’t just have an extra chromosome and move on with life.

I’m angry that a stupid mouth sore can lead to a hospital stay.

Willow was not impressed with the toy selection.

I’m angry that they don’t serve wine in hospitals.

I’m angry that all the work she put into gaining weight these past 3 months has been wiped away.

I’m angry that there are good nurses and bad nurses, good doctors and bad doctors, and I have no frigging clue who to trust.

I’m angry that the only drug that can help my daughter produce enough white blood cells to fight off infections gives her bone pain and makes her miserable.

I’m angry that a stupid infection could make Willow’s already weak muscles, weaker.

I’m angry that Willow has missed two weeks of therapy.

My stong, mighty Willow, pre-sickness.

I’m angry that it’s cold and flu season.

I’m angry that in the past two weeks, this family has battled strep, a mystery virus, and a nasty mouth infection.

I’m angry that my husband announced last night that he’s coming down with a cold.

I’m angry that my laundry doesn’t do itself.

I’m angry that I don’t have the guts to say “Craptacular” when people ask me how I’m doing.

I’m angry that God seems so distant sometimes.

I’m angry that being a Christian can make life harder sometimes.

I’m angry that we need to experience the bad stuff to get to the good stuff.

I’m angry that I let Satan win too many times.

Willow with her purse, ready to leave.

I suppose if you’ve read this far, I owe you an apology. I’ve probably ruined some of your opinions of me. I always laugh when people say “you have such a positive outlook.” The truth is, I get angry, depressed, and downright pissy at times. Oops. Is that a swear word? Sorry. There’s no turning back at this point.

Do you want to know another thing that makes me angry? Some of you might read this and pity me. Or worse, you’ll take this post and twist it, drawing the conclusion that raising a child with special needs is hard, and therefore not worth it. That’s just a pile of… well… you know what. Man, I need a bar of soap in the mouth.

Would you believe, I actually yelled at God this week? Overwhelmed, full of anger, saturated in exhaustion, I yelled at Him. “I’m just so angry at you!!!!” You know what happened? He took it. Like a good father would.

See, I’m pretty sure He knows, I’m just having a moment. He also knows I still love Him the same. And the best part? He knows the purpose behind this pain. There IS purpose. Obviously, I’m angry that I can’t see it right now.

Now, where’s the Halloween candy? I need some chocolate.