I am not sure if it was the full moon, the leftover Tykerb horror in my body, or just a plain and simple bad day that evoked my anger at cancer. I couldn’t sleep, could not get comfortable at all, and when I finally did get to a resting space, I realized that I forgot to take one of my million meds, that just pissed me right off. So I get out of bed with a huff, husband snoozing through this, take the damn med, try and settle down and just got madder and angrier and irritated and all sorts of cranky. I haven’t really gotten this way yet, or expressed the burning anger that we all feel in this situation. Mother f’in cancer.
Settling down seemed impossible. I didn’t know another way to release my frustration, so I accessed my Sicilian side, walked to the cupboard, grabbed a plate, opened the door to outside and slammed the thing on the cement in the pouring rain. It felt so good, after a good cry with the now awoken hubby, I fell into slumber.
After telling this to a girlfriend, she told me about her close friend who used to buy clay pots and throw them off of her deck in order to cope with the loss of her son. It has been a little while since tragedy struck her, but she still does this from time to time. I get it, completely. My husband told me that I did not need to break plates, I could talk to him and wake him up…
But sometimes you just need to break plates.
(next time I’ll try not to grab a cool vintage one though)