The bitch is back — and I welcome her return

To quote Sir Elton John: the bitch is back.

I’m not surprised by her reappearance. Logic said she hadn’t left my life permanently. Still, it had been a few years since I’ve seen her and, although I’d been expecting her to re-emerge, I will say the timing is interesting.

And just who is this bitch I speak of? Why, myself, of course! 

Every good girl has a side that growls when her ire is raised. Every woman is different in just how her bitch is displayed but I’ll speak only about me and tell you how she came to be brought to life again.

My inner bitch displays as anger. Sometimes, although rarely, blood-boiling anger. My anger is take-no-shit anger. If you bark, I’ll bite. If you push me, I’ll push you harder. When I’ve hit my limit, when my patience is beyond my rev limiter on a steady basis and you won’t back down, you get the best of my worst. I will dig my heels in, stubborn as hell, and I will defend myself and fight. I will not yell and, although I do enjoy my cuss words, I won’t use them with you. Instead the blowback you receive will be that of a good-natured, happy-go-lucky woman pissed off hardcore whose words of seething anger will leave you set back on your heels. 

That’s my bitch. 

After My Favourite Husband (MFH) died, there were many times of full-on anger that first year. Not constant anger but anger that appeared on a regular basis. I was angry at him for dying, angry at God for taking him, angry at myself for pretty much everything. I’d have moments of joy and then, without notice, moments of anger. There are stages to grief, and anger is one of them and this I knew early on. I also knew grief isn’t linear and ping ponging through the stages was normal. So I wasn't scared of my anger. Some of it made complete sense. Some of it made no sense. But because anger was part of how I felt frequently, I learned to live with it. 

After about the first year into my widowhood, my anger began to dissipate. I was spent. The things I was once angry about, I wasn’t any longer. Most of it was because I was beginning to live with the peace I had made. MFH wasn’t coming back and being angry wasn’t going to change that. So I wasn’t.

Now this created its own challenges. No longer summoning my anger regularly meant that it melted away. Most of the people in my life are beautiful human beings who only want what’s best for me. But my path has crossed with a few individuals who’ve treated me poorly, disrespectfully. People who’ve taken advantage of my good nature. It’s happened in business and in my personal relationships. Because I didn’t get angry, I allowed the behaviour. I didn’t like it but I didn’t fight it. Was it OK? It was not. But I place blame on my shoulders as well for sitting back and accepting.

Life may have continued on like this indefinitely but a current health issue has not only had a physical effect but an emotional one as well. Routine bloodwork has shown I have low iron. I’ve had this problem in the past but thought it had been rectified. Recent test results along with good hemoglobin and blood cell reports has narrowed down the cause to be frequent blood donations. I can donate every three months, four times a year, and I do. MFH received more than 100 blood transfusions throughout the course of his illness and I feel it’s my place to donate, so others have the benefit of blood when they need it. The frequent donations, in addition to the fact my diet is lacking in iron, means my iron isn’t being replenished like it should. Physically this has left me lethargic, unmotivated, fatigued. I’ve been napping more than I like. I have to really push myself to accomplish anything with my day. My zest, my drive — they are parked in the garage. An iron infusion/injection is on my horizon soon and that blast of iron in addition to other changes (a iron-rich diet and perhaps supplements) should have me feeling more like me in no time.

So physically, there’s a plan. But mentally, this has taken a toll. Depression is one aspect I’ve been coping with. I know self-care is important and that depression is real. Although depression is something I rarely experience, my physical state has left me depressed for longer moments than I’d like. Blue. Sad. I’m crying more, frustrated at my lack of energy. I dig deep and I’m kind to myself. It gives me motivation to at least exercise and push myself to do what I’m physically capable of. Grit. Grace. Gratitude. 

The there’s the anger. Oh boy! She popped her head up, smiled coyly, shook her Medusa-like mane of hair and said, “Why, hello Girl! Remember me?" And I said, “Hell, yes. Welcome back!"

Truthfully, the anger gives me a short burst of energy right now. I like that. But, more importantly, it gives me back some of the power I had relinquished to others. The last few weeks, I speak up when I don’t like what I’m hearing. I say exactly what’s on my mind with no hesitation. I do my best to not intentionally hurt anyone’s feelings but it’s not been at the expense of my own being trampled on. 

A prime example was today. I had a banking inquiry that I called in about. At the end of the call, the representative asked how I was enjoying my relationship with my financial planner. I said, “What relationship?" And, just like that, I launched into the fact that my new financial planner had never connected with me. I eschewed the qualities of my former planner and voiced my displeasure with my current situation. My words were measured, my tone was firm but there was no masking that I was angry. I didn’t say “sorry” even once (and, being Canadian, I apologize for everything). I wasn’t rude but there was no holds barred. After multiple apologies to me for the dropping of the ball, the conversation ended. And less than 10 minutes later, I had an email confirming an appointment with my planner for the next day. And, less than 30 minutes after that, I received a phone call from that planner wanting to connect with me. 

Am I sorry? I am not. Am I sorry to the other people I’ve been firm with, people who’ve received my justified anger? I am not. 

The bitch is not someone I connect with on a regular basis, primarily because not everything is a fight and she doesn’t need to be prominent all the time in my life. Having said that, I’m very glad that’s she’s here again. I’m glad my bitch is back!