When Anger Sneaks Into Your Life
I took a walk on a damp, crisp early October evening through a senior residential community. As I passed the row of identical duplex townhomes, each decorated with pumpkins, mums and craft-store scarecrows, two snowbirds having yet to take flight appeared from around the corner. The two women were walking three small dogs. As I approached, I noticed that two of the dogs were some mix of West Highland White Terrier. Having had a Westie as a teenager, I stopped to engage the Golden Girls in some brief conversation.
It turned out that one of the Westies likely had Dachshund blood, as its legs mounted it barely off the ground. With its longer hair, it acted more like a sidewalk sweeper than man’s best friend. I stooped down and stroked its ears, allowing its cream-colored hair to warm my chilly fingers for a moment. And that’s when I realized something.
I don’t know why the touch of a dog lit the bulb inside my cranium, but I suddenly realized that I have been an angry person. And not that I become angry in the moment. What I realized is that I have been feeding an undercurrent of anger in my body for over 10 years. Worse, I have become used to it, so much so that it was simply a part of my operating system. It colored perceptions. It rationalized thoughts, beliefs and behaviors. It kept me isolated and it either stunted or killed relationships. Worst of all, it had become my companion, and I had never realized it–as others’ past insinuations had been previously brushed off–until I got on my knees and stroked that dog.
For those who do not know, I left my job last spring. I was not happy. My commute was too long. I was compromising time with my son who was struggling emotionally. It was apparent that I was on the wrong path. I needed a break. I needed to rest. I needed to find the path toward contentment. At the time, I didn’t realize that I also needed to find the path free from anger.
I have been angry about a lot of things. It started with my father’s slow and steady disappearance from my youth and continued with my mother’s sexual assault during my teenage years. I had the ability to cope with those situations until the I-35W Bridge collapse in 2007 when that ability was lost. I became irritated that my inability to cope with the emotional damage from the collapse contributed to the death of my marriage, a relationship that today my 8-year-old asks me why his mom and dad can’t just live together. I became frustrated that subsequent relationships have been difficult to maintain. Through it all, I remained bitter that happiness and contentment remained out of reach, and I wondered how much the role of past traumas have had to play in all of that.
I’ve felt this for so long but hadn’t able to ID it. Now it has a name: Anger. And now I know I can do something about it. Anger is a natural emotion. It is OK to be angry. But it is not OK to allow anger to take up shop. We should acknowledge the anger but then have the ability to let it go, like a helium-filled balloon let free from a child’s grasp. Anger has tentacles. It develops roots if we do not rip it out. In my case, that anger grew very slowly, over time. When I noticed it, I pinned its cause on something external. That allowed it to continue to fester.
All of that anger buffered me from the ability to act on that. It just sat simmering under my skin, not noticeable to any outsider but could be felt in the air, like that dampness that kept my hands chilled on that pre-dusk walk.
So as it is with autumn, it is harvest time for me. I’m harvesting my anger. My resentment. My irritation. The bounty won’t be stored in silos but thrown into the fire. I am going back to regular counseling in order to bring this solution to fruition. For too long I have allowed myself to believe that the bridge collapse had taken the joy, happiness and contentment from my life. It wasn’t the collapse itself but the anger that followed. I can’t undo the trauma but I CAN undo the feeling of anger and all the poison it injects.
This spring, during my feverish quest to fix a problem I couldn’t identify, I started a business coaching business called Green Whistle. The idea was noble. I wanted to help others become better versions of themselves, and I thought by doing that via my business ownership experience that it would justify my exit from that realm. What I’ve realized now is that I can fill that need better by sharing my post-bridge story with anyone and everyone who is dealing with or has dealt with trauma of any kind. I have to believe there are multitudes of others struggling, unsure of how to reclaim a life that has felt lost. That’s where I’m taking Green Whistle. I am going to seek out groups and individuals who may feel angry, stuck, without a plan or purpose. I want them to see that there is a path forward.
As I walked away from that pooch under an overcast sky from which an occasional goose honk dripped, a very real sense of understanding and release came over me. The feeling was so intense that I stopped in my tracks, clenched my hips with my hands and tilted my head upward to the sky. I closed my eyes for a few seconds and felt burning tears well up in my eyes. These were tears of relief. I had identified the source of my corrosion. Great things are about to happen.
If you know of an individual or group (nonprofit/business/social group) who could perhaps benefit from hearing my story, please let me know or share my contact information with them. I invite you to help me start helping others.
