Trauma
Why Am I So Cranky?
It's hard to be chipper during planetary chaos. Here's how I'm trying.
Updated November 8, 2023 Reviewed by Jessica Schrader
Key points
- My glass was half full. Now it’s broken.
- My breast cancer advice—focus on the good and the now—is difficult when so much is wrong.
- The present is all I can know. It is good for me now; I will embrace that.
![Patricia Prijatel Patricia Prijatel](https://cdn2.psychologytoday.com/assets/styles/article_inline_half_caption/public/field_blog_entry_images/2023-11/glass.jpg?itok=soZbKkHp)
I had such a healthy attitude when I was undergoing treatment for breast cancer. I was one of those annoying I-can-get-through-this people. That was 17 years ago, when I perceived my glass as half full; now it looks like my glass is broken.
I feel like a grumpy old woman. A crank. Before my glass broke, it was full of mud.
I survived that cancer and another one nine years later. I looked at both as highly beatable and, while they made me acknowledge I would die someday, I didn't stew about it happening anytime soon to me.
What happened to change my outlook? Everything. The gross mishandling of COVID has left us with a disease that is still plaguing us, exacerbated by a refusal by too many to trust science. That led to a lengthened lockdown that traumatized us in ways big and small and made us uncomfortable being too close to one another. A disease that could have been treatable became a magnet for the political divisions that have torn us apart.
Plus, our planet has reached a climate tipping point and, with it, extreme weather and climate denial. We’ve had two derechos—a tornado-like wind once rare but now getting way too common—at my Iowa home, with 85 mile-per-hour straight winds clearing out entire forests. During one of those, in December 2021, my husband had a stroke. Docs could find no blockages and no cause—he's a thin and active man who never smoked—and I wonder what role that storm played. It did interfere with our getting to the hospital quickly because the local ERs were full of patients with COVID and were backed up for hours. Exhausted doctors initially diagnosed him as having a UTI and sent him home with antibiotics.
And there’s more trauma: The death of too many beautiful women I met during my breast cancer advocacy. I had become friends with some; others I’d never met but I knew their stories and I mourned them.
But in my case, breast cancer was just me against one disease. A big deal of a disease, but one with a clear path of treatment and a solid rate of cure. What do we do with all this other mess? It’s global, existential, frightening. I don't diminish the stress of cancer. It's huge. But the stress of everything else has been a much bigger struggle for me.
I want to put my glass back together. I am taking baby steps.
Living Well Right Now
To try to heal my state, my people, and my planet, I support others by listening and caring; I speak out, write, vote, and encourage others to do so.
To try to heal my soul, I follow the advice I have often given others—and myself by extension—and focus on what I can control at this time, this place, this now. I am beyond lucky to have an amazing husband, kids and grandkids I love dearly and who love me; a comfortable home; a boatload of friends; and no personal drama right now. I have no idea what will happen in the next few minutes, let alone the next days. So, I try to stop worrying about it and look at the good I have in front of me. I try to live this minute well. Emphasis on try.
Doing that with global warming, climate change, political unrest, and deadly pandemics is difficult. But it’s what I’ve got for now. It’s a start.