Dealing with anger      

I looked back over five years of blog posts and realized I had never written one with the word anger in the title. That probably reflects my generally positive, glass‑half‑full outlook and my desire not to raise the topic. But over the past few days, and especially today, a small but unmistakable dose of anger showed up. I want to acknowledge it and get it under control quickly. I also want to talk about it because I think it’s a legitimate topic around PSP and one that I’ve left off the table for too long.

I have never really been bitter or resentful about my diagnosis or prognosis. Overall, I am not an angry person. I feel genuinely blessed in life. In fact, I was about to be the happiest I have been in a long time with my daughter’s wedding just over a week away. Part of that happiness was personal, being a father of the bride, but most of it came from looking forward to seeing my daughter and my family so happy.

So where did this anger come from?

I have always struggled with uncertainty. I am at my best when I can influence outcomes. I have spent my life being a strong decision maker, planner, and executor. As the former consulting partner and Head of Consulting for one of the big firms, I was used to clarity, structure, and control. What I have never been good at is waiting in the dark for answers. My stress would peak waiting for a client’s response to a proposal or for a reply to an important message. Even waiting for an important WhatsApp to be read stressed me. That was part of who I was.

Right now I am anxious because many people are meant to fly in for the wedding, and the geopolitical situation means we simply do not know if that will be possible until the United States and Iran conclude their discussions. Like many others, I am waiting to know whether the day will go ahead as planned, whether our family can come, and whether we will have to make last‑minute changes. That explains the anxiety, but not the anger.

For a few minutes, I found myself feeling angry. Over the past few years I have given up so much. I retired early. I moved downstairs. I moved to a wheelchair. I even had to stop using the electric wheelchair. PSP has taken many things from me. What I wanted, selfishly and sincerely, was for the wedding to happen as planned. At fifty, with PSP, one of the dreams I have probably lost is being an active and overly doting grandfather. That was something I had pictured for myself. But at the very least, I wanted to attend the wedding of one of my children, hopefully all three. Now even that is uncertain. For a moment I felt angry at the world, at G‑d, at myself, and at no one in particular. It was not dramatic anger. It was a quiet, cold thought of how much is enough already. Why can I not have this one moment of joy without compromise. I know it can be logically debated in so many ways but this is how I was feeling this morning – not now.

But I believe in G‑d deeply, and I know that feeling this way is both human and misguided. The world is not built around me. Other people’s lives and safety matter far more. I have to accept that there are reasons for what happens, even if I do not see them. Reminding myself of this helped me get a grip on the anger. The wedding is about my daughter and my future son‑in‑law and the life they are building together. It will happen however and whenever it is meant to, and the geopolitical situation will unfold in its own time.

I know I am not the only one who gets angry. Patients get angry. Caregivers get angry. Families get angry. PSP gives many reasons for frustration. I work hard to stay out of that emotional space, especially because as a teenager I had more than enough of it, and I do not want to return there.

So, I take a breath. I talk about it. I write about it. I remind myself that it is out of my control, just like so many things in life, and that anger will not help. Putting it into words lets some of the pressure out.

Even the most positive people struggle with PSP, and I want others to know that frustration is normal. There is rarely a simple solution, but there are ways forward. Talking, writing, speaking with a therapist, and not bottling things up are what help me.

Some readers have told me my blog is not always easy to read, but PSP is not easy. Anyone who follows a PSP blog knows that some topics are inevitably hard. This is one of them.

The millions of people in the Middle East are far more important than my personal hopes. And my daughter’s happiness is far more important than my own wishes as a father. I can only hope that G‑d helps bring good outcomes to all of these situations and perhaps even finds space for my own small hopes within that larger picture.

If you are dealing with anger, I understand and empathize. There are professionals and support groups around the world who can help. I hope you find some measure of peace.