Anger is such an impossible beast.
It wrestles within you.
It eats you alive while demanding a seat at the table.
And if you ignore it, it waits and then flips the table unexpectedly at the worst possible time and requires you to clean up the mess.
And if you feed it, it’s bottomless, it will never be satiated.
So what is one to do.
Anger is afraid, that if you look hard enough, you’ll see it for what it really is – hurt.
And the hurt is harder to sit with.
So maybe flipping tables and being irate all the time feels safer.
So you’ll pull up a chair next to your anger. And you’ll try to talk to it. And it will meet you with resistance. Every. Step. Of the way.
Anger is selfish. It does not let anything else sit at the table. No sadness. No joy. Nothing. Just you and your anger. And the cards on the table that brought you here.
It’s a staring contest. Over time anger evolves. So maybe at first you would win because your anger was weak and trivial. In third grade your best friend sits with someone else at lunch and you’re hurt by it so you tell her she can’t use your 64 pack crayons anymore but by the next week you’re already over it. Your anger stood no match for your pure childhood joy. Children basically shit rainbows. Anger just can’t measure up. But now you’re well past 20 and your anger has thick skin. Your anger is seasoned and jaded. You are no match for your aged anger. Because each time you look up across the table at it is worse than the last. Because each time that requires you to look up across the table at it is compounded by all the other times. And you never take its plate. Because it just gets bigger and heavier. Let’s be honest: At this point it’s not about staring down your anger. It’s been years since you even looked your anger in the eye. You just tip toe around it and hope to a God that may be you don’t believe in that today is not the day it asks you for another helping.
Anger will always be hungry. Be careful what you feed it.