Anger

I have never really had the best relationship with anger.   
Like many people,  throughout the years, I have seen a plethora of examples of how to express anger in a unproductive, passive aggressive, destructive and violent way, or not at all, which is equally all of the former.  Come to think of it, there aren’t very many people, if any, that I know of, who know how to express anger in an articulate, passionate, direct and respectful way. 

Also, like many people, I have a long list of things I think I have a right to be angry about.  Regardless of whether I am right or wrong, the result is that I carry around a seemingly bottomless well of rage.  I carry it around, like a Molotov cocktail, sloshing around my insides with every step.  Gives a Fitbit a whole new meaning.

At this point in my journey, my refusal to remain numb and my desire to be alive is maintained by a receptive state of awareness.  This awareness is continually re-enstated by my choice to allow the repeated surfacing of emotions that I have denied myself access to for decades.  That sounds exhausting.  It fucking is.  

Therefore, anger flares faster and hotter inside me now than I have ever experienced.  It takes me by surprise and floods my brain and body with chemicals before I even know what is happening.  I thrash and drown in the water of that rage well, before I even know I am falling.  Extremely frustrating, because for the majority of my life this was never me.  I didn’t get angry.  Ever.  No exaggeration.  Rarely did I cry or feel joy either.  

So now I don’t feel like myself anymore.  I don’t know who this is.  I don’t like my behavior, probably because I don’t have control over it.  I know its healthier to feel the anger, however its not the best emotion to feel out of control about, and in this case, I can’t seem to get behind the whole  practice makes perfect mantra. 

I have also reached a place in my mind where this lack of control is paired with an acceptance of the fact that there may be this long ass list of things I am angry about...but there is also nothing else I can do about any of them, anymore.  Im tired.  Im done.  Im done trying to fix shit.  I cannot fix anything or anyone.  Nor should I.  They don’t need to be fixed.  Im done trying to fix myself.  I don’t read self help books anymore.  I don’t see a therapist to put the puzzle together anymore.  I’m done dissecting myself to see what is wrong with me.  There is nothing wrong with me and I don’t need to be fixed.

However, all that being said, the remaining persistence still seems to be anger.  Being angry, no matter how necessary, is generally unpleasant.  Particularly in excess.  For no logical, external reason.  In moments of desperation I search for any evidence of an idea I have read from several sources: that our greatest weakness is also our greatest asset.  

Anger - a white, hot, instant surge of energy rendering me thoughtless.  Read that again.  Admittedly, thoughtless, can be a dangerous state of mind.  Capable of producing harsh and cruel.  However, those would be particular choices and actions following thoughtlessness.  Thoughtless, from another perspective, can also be an extremely creative state of mind.  Thoughtless is literally the goal of meditation.  

Anger - a drag race, unzipping of my skin, revealing my dragons of defensiveness and exposing my deepest sensitivity.  Read that again.  It exposes my deepest sensitivity, unknown to even myself.  It leaves me  unrecognizable, presenting an opportunity to create myself anew.   The destructive force of anger can also hold the fuel for my highest creativity.  

Like it or not, this hot head supernova, comes from my source, comes from source, IS source.  I just wish the evolution of my changing perspectives would make the light of source not quite as blinding in the moments of explosion.