Underneath my yellow skin

Paging Dr. Banner

Captain America: Dr. Banner. Now might be a really good time for you to get angry.

Dr. Banner (with a wry smile over his shoulder as he’s walking forward): That’s my secret, Cap. (Pauses, drops smile) I’m always angry. (Hulks out.)

I didn’t care much for The Avengers (the first movie, which is the only I saw), but this line stuck with me. Here it is in video form:

This is me, and I’ve never heard it put so succinctly. You don’t need the backstory of The Incredible Hulk to understand what Dr. Banner is saying, but it helps. Very basically, Banner’s Hulk mode runs on rage. In the earlier films/comics, he had a hard time controlling it. I haven’t read it in some time, so I might be misremembering it, but he tried to tamp down his anger and he would get caught off-guard by it and bad things happened as a result. In this movie, again, as much as I can remember, which isn’t much, he’s pretty chill most of the time. So, him saying this showed that he had gotten a handle on his temper and controlled it rather than it controlling him.

I feel this so hard. I am angry all the time, but I’m still in the ‘trying to control it’ phase. I dealt with it for two decades by numbing out. For many years, I couldn’t feel anything at all. I was seriously and chronically depressed, and everything was stuffed way down deep. It’s hard to look back at the younger me without wincing at what a hot mess she was. But, instead of embarrassment, I feel sorrow and compassion for her.

I’ve been sick these past few days. Not sure exactly what, but it’s either sinuses or allergies. Perhaps both. We’ve been having weird weather (supposedly polar vortex?) with frost warnings at night. We almost had snow last week, but it was just a bit too warm. I’m so fucking exhausted. I snoozed on and off all last evening. I’m not able to do much of anything, and I have no interest in anything.  I know that’s depression, but it’s more than that. My nose feels as if it’s being pricked over and over again by a thousand tiny needles, and my brain is full of cotton. I concede it might be the cusp of a migraine, too, but whatever it is, I just can’t find the wherewithal to give a shit.

With all that said, I want to talk about what makes me angry. Why? Because it’s my blog, and I can write about whatever I want. Also, it’s been on my mind because I’m more aware of the anger this week. I think it’s partly because of the lockdown that I’m more irritable than usual, well, more to the point–I can’t hide it as well as I normally do. I have all these elaborate filters, and I usually know when I’m butting up against one. I can’t always stop myself from reacting if I’m in a situation where I can’t get away (like early Bruce Banner), but at least I’m aware of  it.

Now, however, it’s more than simmering under the surface; it’s overflowing at the stupidest times. And at the not stupidest times. It’s all the fucking time, and the only saving grace is that I’m mostly away from people. I have a voice inside my head that is constantly chattering, and it’s usually at a very low volume. These days, however, not so much.

What am I angry about? In no particular order, here we go. I’m angry because this shit-stain of a president is making these terrible times so much worse. More people are going to die because of him, and he doesn’t care. In addition, he and his crew are actively ramping up the racism against Asian people, which is yet another incentive for me to stay in my house. The fact that so many of them are dismissive of wide swathes of people isn’t surprising, but it’s infuriating.

I’m angry that my muse has left me. I’m still writing, but it all seems pointless. And lots of it is just flat. Then again, I always think that whenever I write something, then I return to it and it’s not half-bad. It’s really hard, though, right now to write more than five minutes before my brain stages a revolt.

I’m angry that so many people are downplaying the coronavirus. I understand it’s a weird thing that isn’t tangible, so it’s difficult to comprehend. I, myself, was one of those ‘it’s like the flu’ people two months ago. No, not two. Three. I have some sympathy for people who are struggling with what all this actually encompasses. I mean, shit. Two months ago, the expert advice was to not wear masks. That they weren’t necessary, and more to the point, the professionals needed them more than I did. Advice is changing on the daily, so I’m not pissed off at those who are truly struggling with what’s the best way to deal with all this. It’s the ones who claim it’s a hoax and who spit on workers in the grocery store that make me angry. I’m also angry at the golfers on the golf course behind me or my neighbors who are socializing without social distancing.

I’m angry that almost everything about my life is in opposition to what is considered natural and normal. I’m tired of constantly biting my tongue whenever I have an outre opinion–which is all the fucking time. I’m sick of always being on the defensive about my life and what I choose to do with it (or not). It’s fucking terrible that it in the year of our lord 2020, it’s still considered a woman’s first duty to have children (and to be heterosexually married, naturally). I hate that our society is so couples-focused, and I’m tired of ruminating about whether there is something wrong with me because I don’t want to be in a relationship. Same with not wanting children. For decades, the underlying assumption from others was that there was something wrong with me or that I would change my mind because I did not want to squeeze out spawns from my hoo-ha. I never have, and the idea of being pregnant let alone raising children made me break out in a cold sweat. None of the glowing descriptions about pregnancy or motherhood did a damn thing for me–nothing positive, anyway.

I’m sick and fucking tired of being a freak. I’m reading about all these people struggling with these terrible times, and I’m…just not. I’ve talked about it before, but I’m not feeling much different than I do normally except for a more fucked-up sleep. I mentioned to my new doctor that I actually do better in a crisis because my ‘worst case scenario’ brain is actually more at ease when the outside matches my inside. It’s as if I was born for this as long as I can keep my parents from flying here in August for their annual visit.

That’s right. My aged, ailing parents want to fly for twenty-four hours, tromp through LAX, and leave the country that is known for being the best at handling the pandemic (Taiwan) to come to the country fucking it up on the regular. This is what’s so frustrating about my parents (in this case, my mom). She was obsessed with a month about me wearing masks even though I repeatedly told her that I was not going anywhere that she had her brother send some to my brother, who then came over to drop them off. Thus, increasing my chances of catching the coronavirus because my brother still goes out every day and has contact with several people each day. He’s a realtor. I had to shout at my parents to get them to understand that I am literally not leaving the house except to get my meds once a month. Which I have to do this week.

This same parent wants to come to America during the pandemic? It boggles my mind. Then again, she thought washing her hands three times a day was enough, so there’s that. I fear she thinks as long as she’s wearing a mask and uses hand sanitizer, she’s good. She’s had two surgeries in the past six months, and my father’s health is terrible. Plus, he most likely has early onset dementia, and they’re thinking of coming here? The worst is that she asked me what I thought, and then when I made it clear in no uncertain terms that it was a bad idea, she continued talking about it as if I hadn’t said anything. I was pissed and demanded why she bothered asking me when she didn’t listen? Which she never does. She doesn’t listen to a damn thing I say.

She did say they were thinking about pushing it back to Christmas, and I jumped all over that tray. I don’t want that, either, but I’ll deal with that later. If I can convince her to come for Christmas rather than August, I’ll consider that a win. I’ll take what I can get at the moment, no matter how small.

Leave a reply