Anger Management

About the second week into moth season, it hit me. I had reached the anger section of this journey.

Previously I had just been numb. Numb to life: the good, the bad, and the frustrating. In order to cope and just try to exist on a daily basis, I had flipped on the switch to numbness. It was actually quite a refreshing feeling. Feeling so much hurt and sadness followed by an extreme love and beauty of my living children, and then again the sadness at missing my child in heaven; numbness felt good.

Then the moths came. I don't think I was really aware of any anger issues until the moths came - and therefore, I will blame them for all of this outrageous behavior that has taken place each night around 8pm.

First of all, these disgusting flying creatures attack me. It may be while I'm stumbling for my morning coffee, taking out the trash late at night, walking in the door from playing with the kids, or evening sitting on the couch watching a movie. They have attacked me from every angle, and I despise them! From my mouth, to hair, to cleavage, and even under my skirt one day while driving, they have been out to get me. I could not be numb to these pesky little flying dust covered moths! I hate them.

My knight in shining armor rode in with a vacuum cleaner the first several nights and provided me with some comic relief as he used the attachment to suck up all the flying demons. I couldn't have been more thankful to rest my eyes each night knowing that the dive-bombing creatures now called my vacuum cylinder their new home. (Insert evil laugh)

Then, my knight in shining armor went away on a business trip. Who would save me now? I tried my best to contain them to one room of the house. The one where I wouldn't be sleeping, preferably. This did not work. What was a girl to do - drag out the vacuum her husband used to suck them all up? No, I had laughed to hard at him for using that method. What would any housewife and mother use in such a dire situation? (Lightbulb moment) A dishtowel!

From the second I started swatting at the moths with the dishtowel, my adrenaline soared, and my determination to swat at these flying demons became my mission. What a feeling of accomplishment to get one, if not two in one swat of the dishtowel. Dead, gone for forever, never to attack another human being again.

At this point I was fully aware that I looked more comical to my neighbors watching thru the windows, than my husband sucking them up with the vacuum. As a kind neighbor, I left the shades up and let them have a little fun each evening. They were, after all, lucky enough to have America's Got Talent LIVE in their backyard!

About the fourth night of this comical routine (comical to anyone watching, serious mission for the person charging about the house with a dishtowel), it dawned on me where these emotions of pure hatred and spite were coming from. There was no numbness present. It was full on anger and hatred. Anger at the situation I was in. Anger for the emotions I was feeling every second of every day. Anger at a God who could only allow me such a short time with my baby. Anger for having to deal with other people's responses to my loss. Anger for not getting my way, and God not following the plan I had envisioned for my life. Anger, hatred and ultimate sadness all evoked because of the onset of the worst season of Miller Moths in 7 years!

Once I came to this realization, I actually looked forward to my 8pm battle of the moths. I shunned my knight in shining armor and his vacuum and took up my own dishtowel for some anger management. And, at the end of each battle, my knight would laugh at me, and wait. Because just around the corner was the pure grief and sadness and exhaustion that grief and battling moths take.