Facing Anger

Anger is probably the most confusing emotion.
It’s so very clear when we share someone’s anger, it makes so much sense and nothing could possibly be clearer. It’s almost becomes a tangible fact.

But when we don’t share that emotional opinion, it becomes alien. Frightening, confusing. Something to be pitied or pointed out as the ‘naivete’ or ‘weakness’ of that nebulous ‘Other’, that which is so outside our own-selves that it must be wrong and therefor we’re not alike enough to be seen sharing the same space.

Personal secret time. I am actually a very angry person. I am fully aware of the great hurt and violence I could inflict upon others if I were to turn off the curiosity i have for my fellow humans that helps to keep me in check. I have seen fear that I caused, created through my own actions cross, pass, flit across another person’s face. Surprise, hurt and eyes darting about for escape. I never want to see that expression again. I want to see that expression again.

It feels right, it feels righteous. So how could this righteous certainty possible be wrong?

It’s easier to be angry then it is to be fearful, sad, vulnerable. It feels safe, it feels right. It feels strong. Because if we can tear into meat, down to the marrow it proves the strength of our conviction, of our might. Master the fight, master the will, we can prove the righteousness of our anger through action. Inaction is cowardice, don’t think, pounce. We know our own mind and in our own mind, we are the hero, we are the righteousness that the world needs, if only everyone would just step back and listen.
Show them our anger and we can make them see, they would see how right they could be too. It’s an intoxicant, it is in you as well, it is toxic.

I don’t know what’s right. I fear i never have. This is why i will continue to listen, digest and hug everyone instead. Don’t let me go.
I’m scared and it would be so much easier to be angry…

The Fear of Tears

I’ve been doing some thinking lately.
I’ve had the time and it’s nice to know that my brain still works for me even if it now takes longer to coalesce and articulate things in the way that I would like.

Long story short, I’m been trying to cut out my hate.
I’ve cradled it for years like an ember and then it became a flame.
But this fire offers no warmth. It merely burns.

So why build it? Because salt water is cold and worth mocking.

Tears are ingrained cultural mark of weakness that must be cut out and shunned. Because tears are my honest reaction to livid anger. Which to many, looks like they’ve won whatever point they were on about, because now I’ve become too ‘blubbery’ to retort.

Why is this my reaction?
There are a number of theories but these two stand out.
-I’m an emotional lighting rod, when stuck everything goes to ground.
-I have a fear of hurting people. Mentally or physically. I’ve done both before and know that I could again.

But if I can fan anger to hate, the tears don’t come and the ‘tough guy’ veneer will remain.
Because….
Emotions are weaknesses.
Emotions are for girls.
Girls are weak.
“Girl” is an insult.
Don’t be a girl.

Therein lies the first brick of misogyny, self-loathing and why so many of us are too broken to cry.
Our first bullies, are the adults in our lives who use these sentiments and others like them.  Sometimes without thinking, but all too often as a way to motivate or correct through society sanctioned ‘abuse’. So we cut off parts of ourselves to conform, until we’re too calloused to realize that everyone still bleeds & it becomes accepted and internalized and there’s hardly a second thought to the fact that once we’re grown we have the power to break this cycle.
Because hate is just what adults do.
This is why it’s so especially rampant among those eager to prove that they’re grown.

Flaunting hate doesn’t prove anything other then your inclination to take the easy way out. It’s the equivalent of trying to win an argument by shouting “Na-uh” as loud as you can instead using that time to think and to listen.
I knew this when I was younger and it’s taken me 15 years to find this truth again.
I hope I won’t forget and that your journey doesn’t take as long.