I’m Angry

There are some days you just feel like screaming at the top of your lungs in the car. I have realized after I do such a thing I sound like Kathleen Turner but a little raspier. It is kind of what I wish I sounded like day to day. It’s pretty sexy sounding to me although scratchy feeling in reality. 

Today I say – emotions suck. I like to think that I can logic my way around them but they still want to be felt. I try to pick apart and analyze them to avoid feeling them. Especially anger. I hate feeling anger. My friends chuckle when I try to circumvent the inevitable. I have to feel anger. Anger sucks. 

I know at times that my anger could have the potential to turn into rage. I really don’t like rage. I know she resides in me down deep. We have come to an understanding, rage and I, I will acknowledge her if she keeps her shit together. Because if rage doesn’t keep her shit together then shame will have a field day. Shame doesn’t make agreements like rage does. She is a fickle sort and a bit of a trickster, popping up where she is not supposed to be. 

I have a very close old friend, who frequently speaks to my peacekeeping tendencies, tell me that when I get angry it is scary because it is so unlike me. Yes, I agree with her which is why I rarely get angry. I don’t like to be scary although I do own that potential. I cannot remember the last time I let my anger out at a human. It is too big. I am starting to wonder if I have ever really let my anger out at all. 

As I am writing this I can feel the low rumble in my being. A lifetime of holding my shit together, the warrior in me wants to rage. At a different time in the history of the world, I feel this energy would have had a source to expel itself, in this time it has nowhere to go. So, I am set on diffusing it anyway I can and it feels remarkably inadequate. 

During my first divorce, when I had feelings that seemed bigger than a bread box, I would go to the batting cages. I would get a handful of tokens and swing and CRACK! and swing and CRACK! over and over again. The vibrational shock through my arms and into my body would take the edge off the feels. Sometimes my daughter, who was 10 years old at the time, would be there just watching me. I didn’t even have the energy to rally and pretend we were “just going to the batting cages”. No, she knew I was there because I needed to hit something….and that’s ok. 

I am angry. A controlled angry. All the anger that was never allowed to be felt, is in this space. I am allowing it to be here. On my terms. There is respect for myself. I am taking up space. I can be me, all of me, even the warrior me. And that feels pretty f*$%ing good to speak my anger out to the universe.