Yesterday I was so angry.
The entire emotion seemed to radiate from deep within, as if the source of my anger was right between my ribs, fighting itself. A disgusting feeling really and who likes to have any kind of emotion like that? So I decided I’d write out my anger. Only, once I started to write, the pen became heavier in my hand and my words seemed to sink through pages upon pages. By the end of a few sentences, I was merely scribbling in circles. Hard.
I kept thinking, “I want to drag you through my words, which will pull you into this feeling, which will make you see-” Just that word, over and over, dragging.
Eventually the fight between my ribs subsided and I was able to put that anger back on a shelf. It occurred to me that I would probably have an easier time conveying this emotion with paint than with words. Only, once I got home, I felt that dark cloud lift. There was cooking and laughing, homework done at the kitchen table and just so much love around our table.
Instead of going down into the garage to paint, I took Murph on a long walk. I listened to industrial metal and kicked some rocks around. I could feel my anger rustling about, but there was no need for it to resurface, or so I thought. The thing about me is that when I become this kind of angry, this kind of hurt, I have to cry it out. I have to almost scream out the words to release them. Standing in my closet after my shower, I was almost there- the cry hanging in my throat, the salty tears teetering on the ridges of my eyes, teeth gritting.
And then, Bill opens the closet door and sees me there.
I started to cry and the anger seemed to float out of my mouth and up into the rafters.
Sometimes I forget that we are a team. That we carry one anothers burdens, pains, struggles, joys. I had retreated too far into myself and it was becoming so self destructive. The two of us sat in the closet talking through it all. There are times when you want to remind yourself that a door was closed for a reason and it’s no place of mine to force it open, no matter how badly I want to tear it down. I have to remind myself that there is something greater on the books, but I’m only half way though the collection and haven’t reached my chapter yet.
I slept well after that. Letting go of all my anger, my hurt. I snuggled up into my husband’s arms and drifted off. When I got to the office this morning, I opened my desk drawer and took out that sheet of paper and crumpled it up. You couldn’t see the words I was trying to write and I knew the trash can needed company anyway.
Be kind to folks.
You never know what demons they’re fighting and sometimes, all anyone needs is a good gesture and a hearty laugh.