It is hard, maybe even
impossible,
to see the stars on a stormy night.
They always glitter in their
ebony bed,
never vanishing, though our
eyes lose sight of them.
The mournful clouds roll in,
weeping, closing up the
atmosphere with their
shadows.
A long way up, the stars
shine on.
A cold wind bites, aggressive,
assaulting the air.
Up above, the heavens
are still.
The storm will rage,
will cry out, will destroy.
When it passes, as
all storms do,
we will glimpse the stars again.
Friday, November 23, 2012
Saturday, November 17, 2012
Anger: A Love Story
I had a conversation with a dear friend recently about anger. Rather, the denial of it. Anger is one of those emotions that has a funny way of finding its way out no matter how hard we try to push it down. (I am reminded of this every time I bake bread, as my loaf pan has a sizeable dent in it from being thrown across the kitchen several years ago. But I wasn't mad at the time, really.)
Anger is a feeling just like any other - it is natural, it serves a purpose, it is an inevitability. What we do with it is an entirely different matter. Some folks rage, because the potency is just so great and there's no discernible way to temper it in the moment. Some people deny their anger altogether, because it's simply inappropriate to display such a nasty sentiment. Some people have a healthy relationship to their anger and express it in a reasonable and effective matter, though it appears to me these people are in the minority.
Someone once taught me how you can tell if your anger is justified given your present situation, or if it is actually a response to something much deeper, much farther back in the past. It has a lot to do with intensity. Say someone rear-ends you in the parking lot. In Scenario A, you are shaken up and annoyed, but calmly get out of your car, approach the person with the goal of exchanging insurance information, get back in your car, and go about your business. In Scenario B, you hurl yourself out of the car, wrench open the other guy's door, pull him out by the collar, and proceed to tell him exactly what a &^%$&(@'ng idiot he is. In Scenario C, you begin to cry, get out of your car and apologize profusely to the offending driver, insisting that you are actually at fault, that this stuff happens all the time because you're just so stupid. Only one of these scenarios exemplifies an appropriate response to an anger-inducing event. I imagine you can guess which one. Scenarios B and C are examples of explosive anger and anger that brings up shame, neither of which are actually responses to the car accident, but to things from the past that cause great discomfort.
One of my most recent reminders of this anger conundrum occurred a few days ago when I watched the new episode of Glee. (Don't judge... I like to pretend I'm still 16, only instead of the actual 16-year old me, I'm a pop-song-singing, hip-hop-dancing ball of awesome.) This particular episode of the show not only made light of eating disorders, it actually glorified and exalted them. I lost it. I took to social media to blast my opinions, and was greeted with a response that reaffirmed my disgust. I was furious. I was also hurt. How could the writers, producers, and actors be so insensitive? So dangerous? So cruel? So flippant? So irresponsible? Don't they know how devastating these diseases are? Don't they CARE?
I wasn't angry about Glee. It's a television show. I was angry at my own disease, at the years, the experiences, the money, the friendships, the health, it cost me. I was angry about how many people continue to take that first step - skip that first meal, take that first pill, purge that first time - never knowing the years of devastation that will follow. I was angry at my own first step, all those years ago. I was angry at the fact that I still... STILL... stand in front of the mirror, brows furrowed, shame welling up, hating what I see. I was angry, yes. But not at what I thought.
I am thankful for that anger, though. For while it came up unexpectedly, while it surfaced in response to a (admittedly very poorly-executed and socially irresponsible) television show, it reminded me how very far I've come, and how much I stand to lose if I stop walking the right path.
I encourage you to take a look at your own anger. Be aware of it as it comes - is it justified in the current situation, or is it something deeper trying to communicate itself to you? Is there something else there that needs to be examined? Love your anger, appreciate it. I am finding it has a lot more to offer than I ever knew.
Anger is a feeling just like any other - it is natural, it serves a purpose, it is an inevitability. What we do with it is an entirely different matter. Some folks rage, because the potency is just so great and there's no discernible way to temper it in the moment. Some people deny their anger altogether, because it's simply inappropriate to display such a nasty sentiment. Some people have a healthy relationship to their anger and express it in a reasonable and effective matter, though it appears to me these people are in the minority.
Someone once taught me how you can tell if your anger is justified given your present situation, or if it is actually a response to something much deeper, much farther back in the past. It has a lot to do with intensity. Say someone rear-ends you in the parking lot. In Scenario A, you are shaken up and annoyed, but calmly get out of your car, approach the person with the goal of exchanging insurance information, get back in your car, and go about your business. In Scenario B, you hurl yourself out of the car, wrench open the other guy's door, pull him out by the collar, and proceed to tell him exactly what a &^%$&(@'ng idiot he is. In Scenario C, you begin to cry, get out of your car and apologize profusely to the offending driver, insisting that you are actually at fault, that this stuff happens all the time because you're just so stupid. Only one of these scenarios exemplifies an appropriate response to an anger-inducing event. I imagine you can guess which one. Scenarios B and C are examples of explosive anger and anger that brings up shame, neither of which are actually responses to the car accident, but to things from the past that cause great discomfort.
One of my most recent reminders of this anger conundrum occurred a few days ago when I watched the new episode of Glee. (Don't judge... I like to pretend I'm still 16, only instead of the actual 16-year old me, I'm a pop-song-singing, hip-hop-dancing ball of awesome.) This particular episode of the show not only made light of eating disorders, it actually glorified and exalted them. I lost it. I took to social media to blast my opinions, and was greeted with a response that reaffirmed my disgust. I was furious. I was also hurt. How could the writers, producers, and actors be so insensitive? So dangerous? So cruel? So flippant? So irresponsible? Don't they know how devastating these diseases are? Don't they CARE?
I wasn't angry about Glee. It's a television show. I was angry at my own disease, at the years, the experiences, the money, the friendships, the health, it cost me. I was angry about how many people continue to take that first step - skip that first meal, take that first pill, purge that first time - never knowing the years of devastation that will follow. I was angry at my own first step, all those years ago. I was angry at the fact that I still... STILL... stand in front of the mirror, brows furrowed, shame welling up, hating what I see. I was angry, yes. But not at what I thought.
I am thankful for that anger, though. For while it came up unexpectedly, while it surfaced in response to a (admittedly very poorly-executed and socially irresponsible) television show, it reminded me how very far I've come, and how much I stand to lose if I stop walking the right path.
I encourage you to take a look at your own anger. Be aware of it as it comes - is it justified in the current situation, or is it something deeper trying to communicate itself to you? Is there something else there that needs to be examined? Love your anger, appreciate it. I am finding it has a lot more to offer than I ever knew.
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