I am Angry.
And I am INFURIATED about this being Angry thing because 1)I’m angry 2) still.
Look, life recently dealt me a hand of duds with which I was in no way prepared to handle (because I’m shit at cards,) but I did exactly what I knew I was supposed to in my heart, and I stayed true to myself and, thus, there’s been grief/conflict on a multitude of levels, Anger on another plethora of facets, demoralization in yet another corral of instances, shock-and-devastation by the hoards, and complete and utter fuckwithery on yet another entire dimension altogether (which is so insane it could’ve been concocted during a luxurious romantic getaway with John Grisham and Jacqueline Susann) and all that came bundled in a fun series of Daily Bullshit Installments, (which I immediately relayed to my spouse, who shared in my incredulous “REALLY WHAT?!“-ery. Thank you, God, for that wonderful man.) And honestly, I so wish it was just run-of-the-mill, vapid, trivial, typical twentysomething drama that everybody goes through, but, actually each story is so absurd/bewildering/unexpected, I was exhausted just trying to comprehend it all when it hit me (literally, in one instance – last Saturday night. Got the knot on the back of my head to prove it.)
And look, my [MOST beloved and respected] therapist has consistently called to my attention that, [as I'm proud to tell anybody who'll ask,] I’ve gone through more therapy than any single person legally should who’s been raised as a middle-class, Caucasian woman in America’s suburbs. I now possess the audacious power to process socially-dynamic situations and the very motivations for varied emotions and the things that cause them while using clinical terminology and, thus, learning to handle the negative or positive with love and peace and understanding in the realization that other people’s reactions have nothing to do with me, personally, and, because of my ability to pinpoint textbook behaviors and my mind’s abilities to go back and cross-reference similar occasions to see if this is somehow part of a series of behaviors that I reduce myself to:::inhaaaales::: overanalyzing the shit out of everything and considering myself “free” of it because I’ve checked off all the required items on the list and, therefore, can’t possibly be suffering from it anymore because I did the work and figured the whole thing out. Simple! (:::Stepford Wife smile:::)
Meanwhile, my [adorable, little British] therapist [who always mentions she "enjoys me"] has laughed and reassured me that, while it seems I have learned an astonishing amount about the mechanisms of mental illness and the tools and necessary tactics of healing phsychotherapy, these things don’t seem to be helping me, personally, because I can’t intellectualize and rationalize feelings in order to make them leave my heart… :::sigh::: which is, incidentally, where all the pain resides and perpetuates itself… which is apparently the motivation from which my every literal action originates. [insert stereotypical-hormonal-emotions-based woman joke here]
And that? That fucking blows.
I KNOW in my heart that what I did was right.
I KNOW I wouldn’t have done anything differently.
I know the decisions I made were right.
I KNOW that I was acting out of pure intent. And selflessness, dammit. And fucking basic morale.
And because I know these things so strongly, I really feel okay walking away from these antagonists/people with a shrug; I’m just still so GODDAMNED ANGRY about these recent situations and, specifically, the way they’ve made me feel about people/humanity – independently of the specific situations that triggered this Anger.
And now I’m Angry BECAUSE I’M ANGRY.
So that’s totally productive.
(“Resentment is like taking poison and hoping the other person will die.” Got it, RuPaul.)
Oh and bytheway, if you’ve known me longer than, like, an hour, you’d know that I stop being pissed theverysecond I realize something is totally my fault. I’m really rather good about receiving calm, respectful criticism, stepping back, and going “Oh, you know what?That was my bad. I’ll fix that. I apologize.” (Thanks, therapy!) Especially when it comes to being called out by friends I trust; I consider it a sign of respect, actually, when they’ll call me out on things they know aren’t indicative of my real Self, but just need to be taken care of… I digress.
And the problem with when I get Angry (as opposed to “Depressed” or “Forlorn”), is that the emotion tends to snowball and feed itself on other things I’m only mildly pissed about that are constantly floating around my subconscious, but don’t really need to deal with ASAP because I’ve forgiven myself or righted the situation or “let go” of it or what have you. (like, “Why did you treat that one exchange student in high school so meanly?” and “Why the fuck do you have to be so overzealous with your friendships; maybe it’s unnatural and creepy and reads as co-dependent instead of “Yay! I’m a fan of you!” and “Why are you such a slob, dude?” and “What did I do that made him loathe me so much all those years?” etc.) This particular, deeply-seeded Anger (which is, incidentally, different than my Wrath – Wrath involves destroying everything in my wake out of blind rage and hissing advanced vernacular in a scary-quiet tone – thanks, Mom! – and adopting the ability to levitate. Only once has the Wrath possessed me; it was while I was pregnant and someone admonished me and my baby as “living in sin” because I wasn’t married to my baby-daddy at the time. That was some MOTHA FUCKIN’ WRATH… I digress) is based in a deeply-hurt, deeply morally-conflicted (usually-existentialist-crisis-inducing) disarmament that aaaaches. This kind of Anger leaves me defenseless, shocked, and heartbroken; without the willingness/desire/energy to fight back (NONE of which are typical characteristics of my altercations; y’all know how I love to give idiots verbal smackdowns.); and the realization that slamming on the brakes and walking away mid-conflict is the only real answer, despite the fear/anger-fueled conflict-hungry ragings of an opponent.
AND YES, THERAPIST, I KNOW that this dwelling on being Angry isn’t helping me cope and live to be my Best Self, and then being frustrated because I can’t just let go of shit after it cuts me to the core and causes me to question everysingleperson I encounter and hating myself for being so willing to give so much of myself to people is ALSO just compounding the problem and isn’t part of loving myself enough to heal and spread light. YES, RUPAUL, I understand that other people’s reactions to me are none of my business. I EFFING KNOW ALL THIS IN MY NOW-VERY-SANE-AND-RATIONAL BRAIN. And BECAUSE I know all this, I now have to fight off the nagging reminders that I’m doing myself a disservice by letting my hurting heart distract me so relentlessly. And I’m not going to do some time-wasting exercise like writing-a-letter-I-never-intend-to-send (because some of the people I’m pissed at I don’t know by name and are really just part of a demographic and, also, I don’t think they’d understand half the words I was using.)
But the conglomeration of the last 1.5 weeks’ events have really rattled me and disheartened me in a way I didn’t want and didn’t invite (yeah, go fuck yourself, “The Secret”) and could never have expected. These last few years, since being in recovery and, am no longer incessantly (only occasionally) imprisoned in the vast quagmire (:::giggidy:::) of mental illness, I’ve been fraught with gratitude and love-sharing and communicating with the people I love so we can work past the things we don’t love about each other and love the person they are anyway (hooray! growth!) And, I mean – not to boast – but I’m a goddamned good fan of all my friends. If a friend is selling art, I’ll buy and push that shit; if a friend is launching a organic home-cleaning-supply, I’ll market the crap out of it; if a friend is having a bad day, I’ll send her stickers an a mix CD, if a friend has been hospitalized, I’ll drive 4 hours to get all her stuff out of her dorm room and drive them another 3 hours to her parents’ house where she plans to recover – I don’t even charge her for gas.
I spend half my life trying to gently nudge a little more love and positivity into the world on a daily basis, and it’s teeth-kicking shit like this that makes me want to just say “Fuck all y’all.” I just want to curl into a ball and hide away from people and get all “I Am a Rock” and reclusive just not worry about human interaction anymore. That emotion is totally new (pre-2006, I only wanted to hide away from myself. Uh, hooray growth?) but is also too strong to avoid right now. It’s genuinely scary to me.
And that’s what brewed into my forefront of my conscious mind last night: The idea that all my loving, forgiving, enlightenment-seeking, harmony-preaching actions are for naught; people are selfish and will screw you over no matter how much time you put into showing them you really do love and value them and recognize what’s Divine in their individuality; ignorant gaggles of people exist just to be angry and violent for the sake of perpetuating hatred; and, thus, I’m Angry about everything and I wanna give up on this whole happy-Drew-Barrymore-covered-in-daisies thing I like to envision myself being on the inside. I want to go back to being Daria.
So, basically, if you have any leftover black JNCOs, I’ll take them off your hands.
Alright fine: What I’ve really been fighting to not state out loud – what I’ve really not wanted to admit is that I feel victimized (aaauuughh, I HATE that word) and, while I hadn’t thought about any of it like that, my massage therapist likened some of these recent events as “emotional rape”. That might sound like hyperbole, but it’s exactly how I feel right now – barren and defeated and a little reluctant to share myself with others ever again and like my soul and my life and my trust have been deeply violated/ignored/dismissed, especially with one of these specific antagonists not stopping for a minute to consider how many parts of my life his/her actions would be hurting, especially after knowing me so long and so intimately.
And, look, if we’re being honest here (and I am) I can deal with romantic heartbreak easier than this (and have… on fucking batshit levels – in technical terminology.) – I’m a slightly-curvy, short brunette with a Melissa Etheridge-mixed-with-Melissa-Joan-Hart voice; it comes with the territory. Psh. Whatevs. But this new ongoing Anger that’s hurting me daily, and is trinkling through the cracks into the other facets of my life is starting to literally freak me out; I’ve never felt all this before. I mean, I’ve felt extreme emotions, yes (remember? The Crazy? It takes up, like, half of this blog… and the last 15 years? Yooou rememberrr...) I keep being advised by others to “put it away in a box and deal with it when the initial emotions have passed and you can think about the whole thing clearly.” or, conversely, to “embrace your emotions and experience them fully so they don’t manifest into something ugly and awful later.” And, frankly, I don’t know HOW the hell to work through emotions other than just rationalizing them as textbook scenarios about psychological human dynamics. (Which also… dare I say it?… is frustrating.)
Right now, I find myself hiding away and not wanting to take chances on anything ever again because other people were assholes? That’s so against everything I believe.
Here we are.
Me crying in a corner at the agony of humanity and all the seemingly-futile attempts to change it. (FUN FACT: I just barfed on the floor after writing that.)
So, yeah; it’s just been one major-Anger-inducing incident after another in a very short amount of time and, I gotta tell you, I’m pretty depleted at this point.
And livid that I’m Angry.
So that’s productive