Ugh, why did you go and publish that piece in this month's issue about how venting isn't really helpful and how courageous people (like Ghandi) learn to quit their bellyaching and channel it into positive change? Oprahhhhhhh. I just want to complain right now. I'm having a tough week. I am tired all the time. I don't hurt as much, but it still wipes me out to get through breakfast, much less the rest of the day. Mom is here, but Daniel doesn't like being around her if I'm not there — maybe he associates her with us leaving him. Sometimes he sobs if I just leave the room to go to the bathroom. So I feel like I'm doing more babysitting than I have the energy for, and it's exhausting for me, and it's frustrating for Mom, too. I'm glad Steve has a chance to go to work this week, but what on earth are we going to do when it's just him and me? I feel like I need as much care as a toddler sometimes. No one said this was going to be easy.
And then there's this control thing. Would you please publish an inspirational article about what to do when you're so out of control of your body, so physically helpless — no abdominal strength, no energy, no appetite despite eating for two, no lifting objects more than 10 pounds — that you are hypersensitive to things being out of control around you? Like a half-changed crib sheet. Or the George Foreman grill sitting out on the countertop instead of in its correct place on the shelf? Or the little cartons of yogurt that get lost in the refrigerator and trigger this giant panic reflex that the world is spiraling out of my control all around me? Oprah, how do I reign that in and refrain from taking it out on my saint of a husband and mother with an attitude of peevish snappishness? How, Oprah, how? I don't want to turn into one of those bitchy invalids who bark orders from their easy chairs all day.
Maybe, just this time, it's better to let it all out in one big vent. I'll think about all the ways I can channel my frustration into positive change during the long sleepness hours when I can't sleep at night. I'm sure that's what Ghandi did.
Love you, love the magazine,