Something has happened that has knocked the wind out of my sails…again. Actually, that’s not even an appropriate metaphor. I don’t feel depleted like a sail without wind, I feel incredibly angry.
At least, yesterday I did. I was so angry that I finally understood the urge to break things. I wanted to walk into my kitchen, grab some wine glasses, and throw them to the floor, watching them shatter into a million pieces.
But then I thought…
Brilliant, then you’ll be angry AND you’ll have shards of glass everywhere to clean up…not to mention having to buy new glasses.
Damn it, can’t I even rage without being practical?
Fine, then. I’ll just crawl into bed and cry…
Except, we have no food in the house. In fact, remember you made that really creative trail mix to round out the girls lunches this morning? More like stale mix. We have nothing for dinner. Nothing to pack for lunches tomorrow….
And so, in my rage…I went grocery shopping…and I was polite, and I acted normal…and when people asked me how I was I said, “Fine, thank you.”
I don’t know whether to be proud or disappointed in myself for seemingly being incapable of wild bursts of emotion. I really don’t. Does it help to scream and rage and break stuff? Do you feel better? Or do you wish you could weigh your anger against the potential of bodily injury and the nutritional needs of your family…and then settle on safety and chocolate cake?
I know they say it isn’t healthy to keep things bottled up. The good news is I’m not bottling it. I’m writing. I’m processing in the ways I know how. Right now that looks like extra sleep, and warm lavender baths. It looks like extra hugs and snuggles from my kids, and chocolate cake. It looks like helping where I can. It looks like accepting help, too.
It looks like love.
I may feel like giving life the middle finger, but I’m not going to let it get the better of me. I am tired, and I am angry, but at the end of the day,
I have to be the light I see by.