I’m angry, and that’s okay

I don’t like to feel anger. I don’t consider myself an angry person, and I’m not inclined to fits of rage. But it’s time to admit that I am angry. I’m scared that my anger will hurt you, so I don’t share it with you, but the anger is there.

I’m angry at you because of what’s happened since I got ill. I’m angry that you didn’t try harder to make this work, when I feel like all I’ve done is try. I’m angry that you couldn’t face this illness with me, and instead resisted it and ignored it. I’m angry that I’m not enough for it to be worth all the difficulty, that you want other things more. That really hurts. 

I remember when we were in couple’s therapy, and we were each sharing our needs from a relationship. When you shared that yours were about spontaneity and adventure, it made me so cross that your needs were something I can’t even consider, something I view as a luxury. But I was also angry because they are things I want too, but I can’t have because of this damn illness. I want the same things as you, and I think none of this may have happened if I’d never fallen ill, but I’ve had to adjust to my new circumstances, and I wish you’d been able to too. 

It makes me angry and incredibly sad that you haven’t been able to meet my needs, which have been reduced down to ‘essentials’. My needs of: feeling valued and appreciated, of having a partner to face this illness with together, and to feel like who I am is enough. I don’t think these are unreasonable needs, I think they are what anyone deserves from a relationship, but I think your resistance and resentment and of the situation have meant you can’t give this to me.

I’m angry that you’ve only seen obstacles, instead of trying to find creative solutions. There are ways for us to still have adventure and fun, but you have such a narrow view of what that looks like that you can’t see how it is possible. When we were away with friends in the lake district, and our friends found a wheelchair accessible walk for us, I couldn’t help thinking that it should have been you that found it, that you should have looked for ways for me to join in, rather than leaving me behind when everyone went out, or staying behind yourself out of guilt. 

When you miss out on things because of guilt, how do you think that makes me feel? I can sense your resentment and it makes me feel like such a burden and inconvenience. Even when I am able to join in sometimes, you often make me feel like you would have enjoyed it more if I weren’t there because of having to use a wheelchair and other adjustments. I shouldn’t have to feel like that. 

Mostly, I’m angry that I got ill at 24. It’s not my fault and it’s horribly unfair that I’ve had to deal with this so young. I’m angry that I may never get to do all the things I wanted, and that I had no idea I’d have so little time. I’m angry that other people my age live much more unhealthily than I did and they are fine. I’m angry that the medical community can’t help me, that the welfare system tries it’s best not to help me, and that other people my age are getting on with their lives and I’m being left behind. I’m angry that I’ve felt so alone in this whole experience, and that I’ve felt like I’ve had to look after you through it too. I needed support and a partner, though I know you tried your best.

This illness is cruel, unfair, and it makes me angry. And that’s okay. It’s okay that I feel anger – the anger is not misplaced. I do still find it hard not to feel bad about being angry at you though, because I understand why you feel the way you feel. It’s not fair that we’ve had to go through this kind of challenge at our age, and I know that many couples don’t manage to stay together when one of them gets a chronic illness. 

I don’t know if I’ll be able to share this with you, because I don’t want to hurt you, and I know you’re already angry with yourself for the way things have gone. I just needed to vent my anger, and try to give myself permission to feel it. It’s still a work in progress.

26^thFebruary 2019