Today was the first day I felt angry.
Angry about masks, about PPE, about PAPRs.
About the trouble it takes to dress, prepare and take care of patients. Angry about limits, about new ways of being, about change.
I've been adaptable so far, but resentment is rising.
It's not far from my awareness. It's there when I'm inconvenienced. When, one more time, I must think about what I am doing, how I am doing it, why I am doing it.
It all feels overwhelming and scary and important and horrible and draining. It feels raw, and it feels like tears. All right at the surface.
Angry because things are not normal. They are not as I want them to be, as I feel I need them to be. The plastic shield between me and my patients, between me and the checkout clerk is beginning to eek into other areas of my life. Something hard, invisible, keeps me from getting my normal back.
Angry isn't fun. It's messy and draining. It consumes more of me than I like or want.
I can't avoid it, jump past it, or miss it.
I want to be present to the pain my anger exposes.
For anger is part of the journey. Part of change, of loss, of grief. It's my freedom that I miss.
Anger is now one more stage on the coronavirus journey. Whether things stay the same, change, or get back to the "old normal", it is one of my companions.
Anger, I befriend you. May I allow you to be my teacher. May I not run from what you would have me learn.
What emotions are rising within you during this coronavirus season? Anger? Sadness? Frustration? Notice your emotions. What might it feel like to befriend them without judgment or denial? Instead, welcome and receive them. See your emotions as a way to connect more deeply connect with God.
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