I walked out on the deck. The sun was shining. It was later in the afternoon. But the day was still bright. The day was mine. Finally.
In more ways than one.
A long time ago I was married to someone else. Not a bad man. But an angry man. Anger was a foundation of our relationship. I used to plead and beg for discussion. Let’s resolve whatever it is you’re angry about. Let’s resolve whatever it is I’m angry about. It never ever got resolved.
Days would go by with not a word spoken between us.
Eventually the anger would dissipate.
Or just go somewhere else for awhile.
One day I came home from work. Anger was sitting in the house. Just kind of simmering. Nothing was said. No actions taken.
I looked outside. The day was beautifully warm and sunny. I turned from the window and realized how dark it seemed in the house. Though the sun did shine in through the windows…there was no way it could penetrate the anger that settled it’s self in the recliner. Unwilling or unable to express it’s self.
I looked out again. Sun. Shining.
Turned back to the darkness.
Stark contrast. That only I seemed able to see. Feel.
I said to the anger….”that’s it. I refuse to live angry every day of my life. I’m angry because you’re angry. You’re angry because I’m angry. I tell you I’m angry and it’s cause for you to be angry. I know we can’t help but get angry. And that’s okay. But when I’m angry, you know what I’m going to do? I’m going to tell you I’m angry, and then I am done. Done. Done. I’m done being angry. If I don’t agree with you I’m not telling you you’re wrong. I’m telling you I see things differently. And we need to talk about it. If you don’t agree with me you don’t have to be mad, but you can tell me you don’t agree. I never know why you are angry or what you are angry about. Then when you get angry again, it’s all just piled one thing on top of another. I know I’m going to get angry. And that is okay. I know you’re going to get angry. And that’s okay. But we have to be angry, explain it, and let it go. I refuse to live my life angry anymore.”
I kissed him on the cheek. I told him that was all I had to say. He still said nothing. The anger still sat there. With him. Consuming him. I walked out the door. I stood on the porch. I breathed.
I owned and own my own anger. It’s my responsibility.
I still get angry. I get angry super fast. But I let it go once I can express it. Now, I get sad if I can’t express it. Because if I can’t express it I can’t get rid of it. Generally, for me to get rid of anger, I just need to express it. Say it. Cuss it.
Anger is an expression. It’s a feeling.
It should never be a state of existence.
That day, when I learned I did not have to live angry, I learned how to live free.