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me: I feel all of this anger since this recent financial f*%! up by the Outgoing Husband. Since I found out about it, I’ve been all clenched and angry. I don’t want to feel like this – I haven’t felt this way lately. In fact, I thought I was letting go of feeling like this.
therapist: Where do you feel it? What does it look like?
me: In my jaw. It’s tight, like metal. It reminds me of some combination of my dad [he was a class jaw grinder] and William F. Buckley.
therapist: What’s its job – this metal jaw?
me: To protect me and help me do “the right thing”, especially with regard to money. It’s directly in opposition to Alex’s laissez faire attitude about finances. He’s Jerry Garcia and I’m William F. Buckley. I don’t want to be William F. Buckley, but I don’t see much choice; someone has to keep us from going down the dark hole of utter indebtedness.
therapist: So the iron jaw has a worthy role, but what’s the drawback? Why don’t you like it? Read the rest of this entry »
Yesterday I wrote some very mean things to someone I love. He suggested I don’t love him. Perhaps someone who can write such things isn’t capable of love (my thought, not his). I don’t like writing mean things – too much of the f-word makes me queasy, too many bitchy accusations and whining questions drain me. Is there any way to do anger with dignity?
I am awash in anger right now. If I let it, I can ride it all day – slamming down my laundry basket, unable to write, snarling at the dog and at my kids. It exhausts me and makes me feel, as I did yesterday afternoon while I pressed SEND on one black and blue email after the next, like a character from The Sopranos. A minor character. A character who will be whacked soon.
My seething ebbed in and out of self-pity, but I came to a quieter place late in the day when I talked to my dear friend and godmother. She told me that her husband–they were married just two weeks ago in one of the most beautiful ceremonies I’ve seen– has pneumonia and that her 96-year old mother is choosing to die. “She’s lucid. She’s ready.” The words snapped me into equilibrium, not out of sadness but out of anger. Anger is such a selfish reflex. I told her I was ashamed to have been hiding out in its immense shadow all day. ”You deserve to feel anger,” my friend allowed me, “A lot of people have been letting you down. But don’t let it drain you of your beauty and light.” Read the rest of this entry »
