I have been looking for a home for my anger, at times like these I first try to really understand what the word means – the dictionary is a great source of comfort for me, it is the beginning of my process to rationalize my emotions, to understand.
Anger – apparently comes from the old Norse word Angr which meant grief. Already I am able to peel back a layer, but just as my mind shifts and I glimpse the pain, the grief beneath a wave of rage washes over and the hurt is again hidden.
I like it best this way on my more mortal days, the days where I have no desire to occupy the moral high ground. I do not want to feel the hurt and the pain. I can deal better with the anger I try to convince myself that the antidote will be vengeance. That then the scales will be equal, that this is fair and righteous.
Like many of us, I expect that I can live with this far more comfortably than I can sit with pain and hurt – You see I don’t know where to put those feelings, do you keep them by you like doting companions, life long mates, do they leave one day of there own accord, do they fade like ghosts each day paler and less acute to the senses or do they visit you unexpectedly like flamboyant relatives, coming through the door of your mind refusing to be ignored as loud and present as they day they first were felt?
I don’t know where hurt lives, I never made a place in my mind or my soul where such a feeling can sit. But rage and anger the sting of a great betrayal, those things I know what to do with. Like a chained and savage dog I can feed them daily a diet of indignation, I can tend the wound to keep it raw and open and I can watch the dog of my anger grow from a pup to a snarling dog of hatred and vengeance until one day it snaps the chain that has held it in the yard of my mind. I can see the dog loosed tearing chunks from the very next person. And here is the conundrum ~ this dog, it has a life of its own. I cannot seem to drive it to the source of my pain. To the person that I hold responsible the one that hurt me in the first instance .
The dog of my rage cannot be tamed, I have tried, he does not come when I call him to heal, once the chain is snapped the rage will run its course and the truth the real unadulterated truth I don’t feel any better – only tired, exhausted even, whipped out enough to move on, to let go.
So here’s the thing maybe I can let go before……maybe
