Wednesday, June 6, 2012

The Season of the Rage Monster

For all the negative words I could use to describe myself, anger is not one of them.  I get moody, yeah, and can seriously grump out when things aren't going my way (working on that!) but anger...that's a relatively unfamiliar emotion to me, especially when it shows up in the form of rage.

I mean, Rage.  Like the Hulk.  Like Mark Ruffalo terryfing the shiz out of Scarlett Johannson at 30,000 feet then falling to the ground and surviving.  Like blood and fear and anger and hate speeding through your veins and enlarging your heart and brain til you think your body will burst with the pressure.

Rage.

In 29 years of life I never felt Rage, but at 30 it's my new worst enemy.  I don't think it's biological, I think it's because when I hit 30 my world was falling apart - I was half-raising my sister's kid while bringing in less money than my bills were taking out and my pelvic pain was getting steadily worse even while I was doing more and trying more and spending more than ever to try and make it better.  I felt trapped in a cyclone of worse, and then the cyclone became me, and now, I am the cyclone.

I am not enraged about having to have surgery.
I am not enraged that my sister returned and is being a mom again without acknowledging what she did to the family.
I am not enraged that I don't make much money.
I am not enraged that I felt, and feel, stuck.

I am enraged that that dbag cut me off in traffic.
I am enraged that we're out of dish soap.
I am enraged that the new guy at work won't put the lid down - even when asked.

Like, that's the thing about Rage - it doesn't make sense.  You think you're working on all the hard emotions that arise with hard circumstances, but all of a sudden you're having a screaming fit in your car because the grocery store was out of your shampoo.

Really?  Shampoo?

No, not shampoo.  This is really about the fact that I never got a thank you from my sister.  This is about the fact that I am scared shitless about surgery - so, so, so, so scared.  This is about the fact that surgery is really expensive and I've already poured approximately $15,000 and 10 years into trying to get better and the weight of all that money is making me tired. This is about thinking I'm taking my worry and stress and sorrow to God when really I'm just holding it behind my back while smiling and saying, "Here you go, Jesus.  It's all yours."

I need your prayers.  And please - if this has happened to you, please please leave a comment on how you dealt (still deal?) with it.

******
And for fun:

3 comments:

  1. Ohhhhh man, I can totally relate to anger issues. Honestly, the thing that really started to break me of it was how anger simply comes from selfishness, ESPECIALLY withholding anxiety/emotions/hopes/dreams...everything that we would share with a loved one. We can't say that we really love God if we withhold those things from him.

    And then when we refuse to love others, we're saying that we don't really trust God to take care of our emotional pain, fear, etc.

    Is this easy to do? No. It's really hard. When I was living in the homeless shelter in San Antonio, I was exhausted every day, hardly any money, no job, came back to constant noise, no privacy, a kitchen in utter disarray, clothes all over the laundry room...and it would have driven me insane unless I just decided to let all my anxiety about the future or about "how things ought to be" go and just deal with the present reality. I realized that until that point, I was using other people to sustain my emotional/spiritual moderation. The spiritual person isn't negatively affected by changes in the external world. It's really difficult, but it is possible, and there's a lot of freedom in it. Hope that's all clear. Love you, sister!

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  2. As an addendum, I'm definitely not saying that a spiritual person must not desire a pleasant or comfortable external world.

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