My mom once told me that “nobody teaches you how to grieve.” I’d like to add to that.

Nobody teaches you how to be pissed off, either.

I’ve certainly been taught how not to be pissed off. Or learned by secondary intent and life experience. I know that losing self-control is not okay. I’ve learned those triggers in myself that may cause me to lose it. I’ve learned how to keep those triggers at bay. And how to numb them. What results sometimes is this detached mask of calmness, so dispassionate that perhaps it is mistaken for indifferent. Aloof. Dead.

My only other option is to allow the anger to happen. And that is not an option. Not for me. Not in any circumstance. Just. No.

So what do you do? Are there situations in which you are allowed to be more pissed off than others? Pissed off for a longer period of time? How long? When does it stop being justified and start being self-pity?

There is an immeasurable indignity in losing control, yet there is also catharsis. And when there is no catharsis, it results in a constant harping, obsession of thought, tiny sparks of shadowed anger that fizzle out as quickly as they came. Whether through words or action or inaction, I think that is what I am doing right now.

I am pissed. Yet I have no one to direct it toward. No one through whom I can find justice. No one to blame. Days go by and my son heals. And I stare at him, the baby that grew in my belly, and know that I could not keep him safe.

My rational mind knows I must let it go. Be resilient. Keep going. Be grateful that I have my child and for the rest of my life, size up every stumble against it and realize just how fucking fantastic this life truly is.

My pissed off mind wants to go down to Massey Hill in ninja clothes, yank this guy out of his house by his hair, and pull an “Office Space” on his face.

I’m pretty sure I’ve used up all my pissed-off-time allowance. I’m pretty sure it’s beginning to spill over into the realm of intolerable self-pity. I’m pretty sure there are people whispering behind my back that I need to “get over it and be grateful for what I have.”

However right those people may be, they can still suck my dick. No one ever taught me how to be pissed off. And no one ever put a bullet through one of my children before, either. So. Yeah. I think I need just a little bit longer to seethe, if you don’t mind.