I'm still at that point where it's nice not to feel depressive apathy, but overall, there's a boulder in my belly that comes with this rage and I don't like it.
"I'm losing hope in humanityyyyyy," I complained to my roommate. (An exaggeration, to say the least, but at the time I was basically seeing red. Crimson, to be exact. And I could almost taste pomegranates).
She promptly reminded me that, apparently, I have one of the most optimistic views on humanity she's seen.
|This also captures how I felt. And, people, it's a CAT!|
(And then Saturday there was nary a cloud to be seen: brilliant sunshine, and that damp, thick smell of spring's approach. The ground was wet with sinking snow piles and warm air embraced me as I walked back and forth from lab. I felt ecstatic, if just from the weather and the rush I get every time I set up a new reaction in label. That's how I want to feel. All the time).
I don't like anger.
Except, I don't think fighting for what's right and arguing (respectfully) with differing opinions is wrong. I applaud it, actually. Anger can be a good thing, I've heard, and I agree. I just - I don't know what righteous anger feels or looks like.
I've always experienced anger as dangerous, even disastrous. It leads to explosions and lashings, exaggerations and cruelty and hatred and fear. In me. In others. I fear it. Oh God, I want it away from me!!!
|How I feel now, after the rage.|
There is a way - look at blogs like Samantha Fields' or Libby Anne's that take on harmful theologies (like patriarchy and fundamentalism), yet their tones aren't destructive or cruel or fear-inducing.
Anger is good. I know this. It's just what's done with anger that can be detrimental.
I know, but do I believe?
Probably not. Yet. But maybe, through practice and holding my temper and focusing more on love, I can learn. Learning, yes, that's a good thing. Even when it comes to anger.
Does anyone else have issues figuring out this tricky thing called anger?