I have reached a point in my anger where all I have are words…words backed by no emotion but verified by a true past and the body.
Sticks and stones? Words do indeed have value. Personally, they carry as equal weight as actions because they are fueled by truths or perceived truths; perceived truths equally revealing the mind and state of the speaker. Words have value.
Anger is sometimes like a run-on sentence. It is continuously adorned, entangled by more fables and elevated arguments in an attempt to be concise. “What is the meaning of the sentence you just read”, asks the teacher, as the blank faced students either look to the ground or into their books; a desire to avoid.
The worst part of showing your anger is the injustice of the action. Not only an injustice to the recipient of the words, by the gravity of speech and manner, but an injustice to oneself for having revealed the inner core. There is injustice in hardness but also in revelation. Assume you have exposed the complications of your neurosis only to be misunderstood, disagreed with, or ridiculed; the reaction is not undeserved, but notice that in the moment you were weak, you wavered in your lessons, and it was captured like a spectacle.
Can you imagine the rage that can be held privately? Not knowing me, you would not believe the challenges I face on daily basis trying to tame the dragon. The days I feel arrogant, I persuade myself that I should be entitled to feel with all my passions, and act upon those feelings. I refuse to change because, after all, this is me. Should not the people who surround me accept me for the monster that I am?
Other days, when I recognize the chronic emotional distress I tolerate, I forgive myself. I am pardoning of my difficulties and forgiving of the pace at which I want to improve my emotional management. Then there are the days, after an episode, where I feel like an absurd woman, as though I have wronged but ‘sorry’ is insufficient. ‘Sorry’ becomes part of the cut, a two-way wound. How can I face the person I have injured? How can I apologize and promise not to repeat my offense? How can I be a better person without giving up myself? How can I grow and still feel genuine to myself?
My ultimate goal is to be sincerely happy – to be an authentic version of a compassionate, open-minded, encouraging and driven self.
It can feel so grim, so unfeasible to grow because in a way you become addicted to who you are, you feel love for your personal relationship and you know growing would mean ending that relationship. The change is frightening because, who are you while you are in transition? If you falter how do you react? What is the motivation for change and is it sufficient to pursue personal change based on that inspirational source?
The self I long to be is a being presently scorn and conflicted. I analyze my muse and it infuriates me to acknowledge that my motivation is based on someone who is not me. Still, what is worse is that when I project my negativity, we both suffer, and I suffer longer as I over think and replay the tragedy.
To better oneself, one must be both generous and egotistical – the primary consideration is to imagine the moment when one experiences relaxed contentment without complicated thoughts that attempt to destroy that peace; the day to await is the instant you respond to an anger provoking situation “fittingly” without sensing disingenuous force to achieve it.
This is what I dream – to move past the labels I have given myself and move beyond vengeance and resentment. Have you ever felt as I do?
Categories: Humble Pie