I know, please don’t scold me because I already scold myself for all of it, I assure you. I try, I really do (though it seems I don’t try enough), but the days fly by and I am unable to keep up with the rhythm I’ve set for myself, the one life imposes on me, and that’s never quite in line with my calling. I hate excuses, and when I have to make them myself, it frustrates me, anger… and those are the emotions I want to talk about today—how they make me feel and how I try to kill them with love and harmony. If you feel like reading more, keep going, and if not, don’t worry, I won’t be upset.

These chronicles are not the hardest I’ve written, but I think they’ve brought out the most emotions, and the ones I’m starting to dislike (even more than the chronicles from yesterday, which I had to stop before they consumed me). Yes, yes, I’ll explain why, and I’ll let all the anger I have flow through these lines.

Taking care of a disabled or elderly person is something that, until you’ve lived it, you can’t imagine. You can think about how you would react, what you would do, how you’d solve problems, how you’d behave, you can imagine how you’d feel, but none of that comes close to the reality. Even if you’re a positive person like I am, there are days when you can’t stand yourself, and that’s when little by little, anger starts to rise. At first, it’s a feeling of annoyance, a tingling that’s not funny, something that slowly takes over you, and suddenly, you’re not you anymore; it’s something inside you that screams to the universe, asking it to listen, to do something, to get away from you.

Day-to-day caregiving for my mother is fine, but when those days accumulate, and your subconscious refuses to accept the reality, you have no choice but to scream, and sometimes I catch myself screaming at her. I scream so fast, and just as quickly, I realize I’m possessed, that she doesn’t deserve it, that I don’t deserve it. The helplessness begins to grow within me, and even though I know I shouldn’t, I keep going until time seems to stop, and I’m there, frozen, analyzing my actions, questioning my feelings, and knowing I’m not doing the right thing. Thankfully, these episodes aren’t frequent at all; I’d say they’re very rare, but each time one happens, it kills me inside.

Why am I angry? I don’t know. I think I’m angry with life itself, with my situation, with the people around me. I stop and analyze my situation, and I forgive myself, giving myself the chance to be, for a moment, the person I know I’m not. I scream loud and clear and try to pretend that with that, everything will be fine. Many times, it is. I’ve always said, all emotions are necessary to find balance in life.