Tonight I told a wise friend that I'm angry about my dad's diagnosis. I'm angry at the world. I'm mad at my life. I'm angry with every person, co-worker and bad driver who brings me a problem that doesn't solve the only problem I care about: my dad's tumor. I am a bitter, angry person.
My friend told me to ask four questions.
Is my anger warranted? Yes.
Is my anger justified? Yes.
Am I entitled to this anger? Yes.
Can I afford to sustain my anger?
Not really. Because it won't bring me much good.
But it seems like such an aggregious lack of balance. How dare the universe strike both my parents? How dare cancer creep up on a family that's already so small? We need each other; we three are all we've got.
So we talked about a Just World. The Just World exists only in our collective unconscious. We believe that the world should meet us halfway. If we go to college and get good grades, the world should have a job waiting for us because it's only right. If we love, we should be loved. If we lead a healthy, productive life, we shouldn't get sick.
But the Just World, as real as it is in our minds, isn't really promised to anyone.
