Maybe this week is a week to get mad about everything. Maybe this week is a week to push me beyond limits. Maybe this week is a week to let my anger explode and rock the boat. If I can rock the boat with grace, that is something I will have to meditate on.
I woke up today feeling worse and started comparing myself to Harry Potter. We have a lot in common. Maybe I will reread all the books to find some comfort and strength while I try to desensitise myself. One thing that Harry and I have in common is how invisible we are to our “supposed” care-takers. If I spent nights without proper sleep worrying that my mother would die in her sleep a few weeks ago, the truth is that no one has bothered to come in and help me decrease the fever or constant coughing in the last four days. I have reached a point in which I can’t cough anymore without acute overgeneralised pain.
It’s not just physical pain though. This has made me seriously think about how and whether my reality is actually better here than before. If before I was sick and completely isolated, now I’m sick, surrounded by people, but still invisible. How can human beings be so non-attached? Seriously, how can we be so indifferent to other people’s suffering? And why is this a constant reality in my life?
For me, this is non-attachment at its worse and I don’t think it’s a useful or even viable way to reduce human’s suffering. How can you detach yourself when your mother and father don’t care about what you do or how you are feeling, since the day you were born? I think I have known non-attachment too well to say that no human being can be well without feeling that someone genuinely cares about. I detached myself so much while growing up that I even convinced myself that everything was alright.
I honestly haven’t figured out this charade. I know though that there is this anger growing and growing inside me and I’m not stopping it. I won’t hide it. And maybe that’s what I need to do differently this time. Maybe for once I need to be and express anger as that’s how people seem to stop and listen to what I have to say. Maybe I really have to let them know how they hurt me without thinking about how they will feel afterwards. Maybe I do have to say “You are a big son of a b*” to some.
I feel better already just for writing it here. Now I need to find a way to get myself together and change what I can change, because DEAR GOD there is so much to do.