The 4th Anniversary of Dying/Living

Today is the 4 year anniversary of my brain hemorrhage, or CVA (cerebral vascular accident), or brain bleed-or whatever happened, when the blood vessels in my brain decided to explode, and fill my brain with blood, and affect my eyesight, my balance, my memory, my spelling, my relationships, my faith, my career, myintegrity, my life. I don't know what to do with all of that. I am at a complete loss in knowing how to feel about it, how to process it, how to acknowledge it, how to respond/react-- loss. I see the experience equally as a good thing, and the most horrible thing in my life--ever. I am still pissed that it happened, still angry that it was my brain, my body, that won the hemorrhage lottery that night/day, and still angry with myself that I am unforgiving toward my brother and other family who did not come to my side- to my rescue. My therapist says that it is good to identify my feelings, name them, "claim them" and then work on them. So here they are: anger, unabashed, ANGER. Not the anger that eats at me, and churns in me slowly, but anger that is so close to the surface, I can feel it thumping and beating in my veins-and it scares me that the anger will hemorrhage and explode, too-- when I don't expect it, and hit me as hard as the episode. I am embarrassed today that I made so much of the experience in the days, weeks and months afterwards--that I told stories of how it made me feel, that I told about what I learned, what I felt, what I intuited--I am mortified that I released those feelings publically-even in front of congregations and audiences. Shame on me. No, I do not remember the experience, the days afterwards, the aftermath, the conversations, the feelings. It is all blurred--and I do not remember it as a "distant rumor." I do not recall the who, what, when or where of it. I don't want to remember it-it was horrible, and frightening, and terrible, and I faced it alone- yes, I know that were people around me who love and care for me- those who went to extreme trouble to be at my side, great sacrifice, when they were dealing with their own pain and the pain of their own families. For awhile, I built a romantic notion about the experience-about being circled by loving friends, circles of prayer and concern. I do not deny all of that--but, I did not experience that, but, I was the object of the prayer, and the center of that concern. I believe that the prayer and concern is what kept me alive, but I do not KNOW it. And today, 4 years later, I am angry that I do not KNOW that yet. I have relied on faith and belief and notions I learned from my mother and sunday school teachers and preachers and evangelists and counselors. I also learned that I could not be angry with God, that I could not express 100% of how I feel, especially in my inner-being. And today, 4 years later, inside of me, deep in me, I am angry-mad as hell, that I cannot see well, that I cannot stand well, that I sometimes forget important information, and that I am not always in control of my emotions all of the time. Yes, I am grateful to be alive-I know that there is no medical, logical reason for my survival--only the illogical, spiritual rationale. Medically, I died 4 years ago today, and I am wishing that I could have learned more from what that experience--still. Medically, I lived again 4 years ago today--I wish I could learn more from THAT experience too. Every time I put on my glasses, take a pill, sit with a therapist, cry uncontrollably, trip, fall, I am reminded that this is my life now, in the "fellowship of suffering," and I don't know what to do with that.