Archives for category: anger

This morning I woke feeling kind of down. I had replaced the batteries in the bathroom scale last night, and did an honest weigh-in to get a clear understanding of the journey ahead. That number was bigger than I expected it to be. Bigger than I thought it was. Bigger than my most comfortable self-deception suggested it would be. I woke up feeling a bit depressed about it.

I drove into the office thinking about my weight. The journey ahead. My desire to live a long healthy life enjoying the companionship of my Traveling Partner for many years to come. The clock is ticking. The challenges with my health, my weight, my fitness, and my emotional wellness; they’re all tied up in knots with each other. I’m sipping my (black) coffee, thinking about the mental math I did on the commute, trying to figure out realistically how many pounds I want to lose to get to properly healthy place… and how long that may take, trying to stay very honest and real with myself, no games, no bullshit, uncompromisingly honest with the woman in the mirror. Harsh. With no missteps, no failures of will, no injuries that limit my ability to exercise… I’m still looking at (at best) a 2-year journey, and a lifelong commitment to change. Fuck that sounds like… a lot. 😦

…How do I get from here to there, and do it without being a complete jerk to myself? What tools are in my toolkit, and can I use them more skillfully than I have? I know I can rely on my Traveling Partner to be kind, supportive, encouraging, and to hold me accountable in an honest and compassionate way… I feel less sure of being able to provide that to myself. I know from experience that treating myself poorly leads to problematic outcomes, and generally limits my success. It’s just not the best approach. So… now what? How do I avoid the slide into despair over this mess? I feel like self-sabotage is around every corner…

I think about my mother’s challenges with her weight. I think about my Granny’s challenges with hers. I think about my recently deceased dear friend’s challenges with her weight. It’s not easy. It’s likely that each one of these women lived shorter lives than they otherwise might have, had they been more successful at managing their weight and maintaining their fitness. There are lessons here. Lived examples. Things to think about. I sigh out loud and sip my coffee; all the powerful examples in the world do nothing whatsoever to create change. There are verbs involved and no fucking shortcuts result in long-term change. It’s necessary to commit to action… then act. Do the fucking verbs.

I remind myself that it’s hard to go from Detroit to San Francisco if I’m standing in Baltimore. Having an honest awareness of the number on the scale now is useful perspective. I make a point to share it with my Traveling Partner, and with my physician. It hurts to own up to it, but… this is where progress begins. I can’t start in a place where I’m not standing. It’s not as if it isn’t obvious that I’m well-over a healthy weight for my age, height, and body type, just at a glance. It’s not as if I weren’t aware of how difficult it can be to keep moving and to eat healthy – and I can’t claim I didn’t know how important these details are. So. Here I am. Ready for a next step. Ready for a new journey. Ready to make real progress.

…Ready to begin again…

We become what we practice.

We become what we practice. Think about that for a minute in the context of anger, and how you express your anger, handle feeling angry, and how your anger affects others around you. We become what we practice. Practice “venting” your anger, releasing it into the environment, directing it toward other people… over time? You become more skillful at being angry. To be clear, you don’t become more skillful at managing your anger constructively, or harnessing the potential in your anger to communicate violated boundaries, or to seek change. You just become more skillful at (and more easily provoked into) escalating quickly and becoming a monster built of rage capable of doing great damage to those around you without anything much in the way of a positive outcome. I’m just saying, maybe give some thought to what you practice with regard to how you express and deal with your anger.

…I know I could do better, myself…

I’ve been noticing some more recent research being published about the relative value in “venting” one’s anger. Apparently, it’s not such a good practice. Gratifying for the angry person, perhaps, but not “helpful” for managing conflict, or reducing stress, or resolving whatever circumstance triggered the emotion in the first place – but reliably also incredibly damaging for the relationship with whatever hapless other primate is receiving the emotional blast of an angry outburst. Justified or not, delivering that angry blast of emotion to another human being is unpleasant, damaging, and not especially helpful for anyone involved. It’s unfortunate that we’re not taught sooner by knowledgeable practitioners how best to understand, endure, process, and express our emotions.

…Maybe don’t look to me for guidance on this one; I’m still learning…

I sip my coffee thinking about anger. I’ve gotten a lot better at managing my anger over recent years, but it still “gets me” now and then – most commonly when I’m driving. Thinking about that in the abstract, that seems pretty fucking dangerous. I keep working at it, because 1. we become what we practice, 2. disgorging explosively angry energy isn’t useful for anything in that situation 3. it wrecks my experience in the moment, and 4. it’s seriously unlikely that anything any other driver does or doesn’t do is at all personal or “about me” in the first place. This morning, I commuted calmly into the office, with the exception of one brief moment of frustration with a driver ahead of me going less than the posted speed limit. My angry reaction caught me a bit by surprise, but I recognized the inappropriate escalation of temper in the moment, and managed to take a breathe, and dial that shit back. Way back. I was going to get to my destination regardless, and this rather unimportant – and very brief – impediment to my forward momentum wasn’t going to change my arrival time in any notable way (even if it did, there’s no time pressure on my start time each day). I took a breath. Took my foot off the gas. Took another breath. Exhaled slowly and got a fucking grip on myself. I was being, frankly, ridiculous. So… I let that shit go.

Managing anger isn’t easy. It’s worthwhile, though. It does take practice. My results do vary. Still… incremental change over time is a thing. We really do become what we practice. When we practice calm, we become calmer. When we practice kindness, we become kinder people. When we practice listening attentively, we become better listeners.

…When we practice expressing our anger aggressively, we become angrier…

I’ve got choices to make. Practices to practice. Every time I feel my anger rise up, I’ve got another opportunity to practice managing my anger with wisdom, consideration, compassion, and understanding, and without explosively escalating it. Sure, my results are going to vary… but each time I practice being the person I most want to be, I get a little closer to that goal. Like anything else, when I fall short of my expectations of my best self, I can begin again. There will definitely be another opportunity to do better.

I’m grateful that I’m no longer the seething ball of taking-everything-personally rage that I was in my 20s. That rage didn’t get me anywhere with the underlying traumas that caused it, it just did more damage. I’m grateful that I’m no longer the pensive, frustrated, still-seething-in-the-background resentfully angry mess that I was in my 30s and 40s. There was an impotence and fugue of futility to that which undermined my ability to feel any joy in life at all ruining some otherwise pretty good years. By the time I entered my 50s, I at least recognized I needed to do something quite entirely different… so I began again. It’s been a strange journey of growth, change, and transformation. Worthy. The journey is, after all, the destination.

I sip my coffee, and reflect on the past decade of growth and change. It seems such a short time…

…and already, still, time to begin again. Again.

I woke groggy and in pain, this morning. Massive headache. Sinus congestion (and assorted other allergy symptoms). Tendonitis in my right knee. Osteo-arthritis pain in my spine. Traveling Partner’s bad mood ringing in my ears, first thing. Fucking hell – what a way to start a new work week, and first day back to the office after a couple very relaxing days away from “everything”. After an hour of snarling to myself discontentedly all the way to the city, I sat down to assess the work that landed on my plate while I was out of the office. My coffee is already gone. My headache most definitely is not.

…Pain sucks…

This morning is every bit as just frankly terrible as the weekend was delightful. Maybe there’s a real relationship between those things, but more likely it’s just a random correlation in the timing, with no meaning outside whatever meaning I choose to force into it. I start working on letting all that shit go. All of it. I start by replying to my Traveling Partner’s messages, catching up on email and taking something for my pain. I make another cup of coffee. I wade through 2 days of Slack pings and bookmark a handful for later action. I make notes about what has to get done today, and what needs my attention this week. I make reminders for myself to tackle some tasks my Traveling Partner asked me to handle for him, today.

…Fuck this headache, though…

I’m starting the day feeling distracted and annoyed. It’s less than ideal, and I would very much like to just have a fucking tantrum, cry, and maybe break some shit… but… that’s literally not who I am, or how I prefer to handle my emotions. It’s just a feeling I’m feeling, right now, and it’ll pass. I take a breathe, and a sip of coffee. My eye lands on my calendar, and I realize I’m “ahead of things”, based on the timing I had allotted to do the basic catching up, this morning. That’s a nice – if small – win. I adjust my calendar details for accuracy (it’s just a thing I do), and I don’t put anything into the time I “got back in my day” based on that change – I’ll just go with it. Feels good. Small wins are still wins, and I pause to enjoy that feeling.

I started the Ozempic yesterday. All the anxiety and rethinking and caution and concern… over… what, exactly? It wasn’t at all difficult to give myself the shot. I haven’t had any kind of side effects (yet). “Nothing to see here.” It still has the power to astonish me how often we create our drama and sorrow out of thin air, or allow ourselves to become freaked out over some momentary bullshit that literally does not actually matter in any substantial way. We’re strange creatures. I breathe, exhale, and relax, feeling the pain in my body and trying to let even that just go. My results vary, but making the attempt feels worthwhile, and at least somewhat effective… maybe?

I sit with my irritable mood and my coffee, managing to be annoyed that I “missed the sunrise”, being distracted by work things as soon as I arrived in the office. It’s not worth being annoyed about, but I prefer it over being annoyed with my Traveling Partner, who managed to genuinely vex me this morning, just being human himself. Working toward also letting that go, I find myself annoyed by other things too small to actually care about, which is… fucking stupid, but very human. I quietly remind myself not to let the moment color the day, which seems practical and wise – I hope I can take my own advice. lol

I continue to drink my coffee, plan my day, and fuss to myself quietly over the amount of pain I am in this morning. I’m unlikely to bitch about it openly in my interactions with other people – which serves to remind me how little we can know about what someone else is actually going through. The result is that I find myself looking at my Traveling Partner’s early morning shitty mood with fond compassion and empathy, instead of just being irritated with him for being irritable, himself. No, I didn’t need that shit this morning, at all, but it’s not as if he’s dishing that shit out “on purpose” with an intention of causing me to also have a shitty morning; he’s having his own experience. I feel for him. He woke too early, when I got up to pee in the wee hours, and couldn’t get back to sleep. That sucks. I get being irritable as a result. I sigh to myself, and drink more coffee. My ears are ringing and my head hurts, but it’s not a reason to be a dick to people. I can do better… I just need more practice.

I finish my coffee, and open up my checklist of shit to get done today… it’s time to begin again.

…Sometimes it isn’t me.

I’m sipping my coffee and savoring the sun rise. I’m not complicating the moment with stress or worries, or leftover emotions to do with past experiences (recent or otherwise). I’m just… here. Now. Being and breathing. Sipping coffee, black, iced. The local murder of crows has begun the day, too, and I hear their calls to each other before I see them singly or in groups taking flight and heading for wherever crows go when they’re not in the trees along the park. There were signs that it had rained during the night, as I drove into the city, and the clouds scattered across the sky suggest there may be more rain to come. I’m okay with that.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I let go of hints of lingering stress and anxiety lurking in the background. I breathe in deeply, and exhale slowly; I definitely need this break I am taking, and today is my last work shift before I go. I’ll have the evening, and much of the day tomorrow, with my Traveling Partner, then… two days for me, for self-care and reflection. “Downtime.” Much needed downtime, actually, and I’m glad I didn’t wait on it. I don’t have the resilience I really need for some of what life throws at me lately, and it’s an important matter to “refill my tank” and prepare for whatever may lie ahead on life’s path, as much as I can.

Another day. Another beginning. Another set of choices upon which to act. There are verbs involved, and my results vary. I just keep practicing, though, because incremental change over time is a thing I have learned I can count on – if I just stay on the path. 🙂

I’ve still got to walk my own path.

Perspective. We’re each having our own experience. Be kind. Do your best.

Begin again.

I’m sipping a relatively dreadful cup of coffee this morning, and watching the sky slowly change from the dark of night to the deep blue-gray of the earliest moments of daybreak, and anticipating the new day ahead. It’s a Friday. I’m looking forward to the weekend. I am thinking about “forgiveness”.

I frankly find forgiveness difficult. Hurts hurt, and the damage done can be quite lasting. So often, at least for me, the lack of any indication of regret, contrition, and likely lack of any sort of apology, can make it super difficult just to let go of some transgression (major or minor), forget about “forgiveness“!

For a long time, I thought of forgiveness as something one gives to the person who caused hurt or damage, or delivered some insult. That felt… unbearable. Unjustifiable. It felt like a bullshit band-aid for an injury that would not heal any better for having provided it. Somewhere along the way I read something, or perhaps my Traveling Partner said it, to the effect that forgiveness isn’t for the person who has done us wrong, so much as it is for us, ourselves – a means of truly letting something go, and moving on in our own experience. It was expressed as a way to limit the amount of time someone who has hurt us gets to live in our heart or our mind rent free, continuing to hurt us again. Understanding forgiveness differently, as something I would do for myself, to ease the burden my own pain is for me, certainly makes me more willing to consider it – but I still find it a difficult practice.

The sun rise, this morning, begins with a streak of vibrant pink low on the horizon. The sky above has turned a steely silver-gray, bluer in places where clouds gather. I make a second coffee, and return to my desk to see the sunrise beginning to be reflected in building windows opposite the rising sun, deep blood red and orange. It’s a beautiful sunrise this morning. Another new day.

…Another opportunity to forgive…

Forgiveness is a practice. It does require practicing. We become what we practice.

My Traveling Partner suggested often that I would do well to forgive a particular ex. I found it hard to do so, in part because I did not feel at all understood by my Traveling Partner; he had his own experiences and baggage with that particular human primate, and these made it quite difficult to discuss mine with him. That feeling of “not being heard” by my partner, on a circumstance that we shared (in a somewhat superficial way, since we were each still having our own experience), made it incredibly hard for me to forgive my ex, even after my partner seemed willing to forgive her, himself.

My Traveling Partner is far more grown up and emotionally mature in this particular area than I am myself. He’s a definite fan of forgiveness. I can still hear myself, at 20-something, snarling to a friend “there are some sins even your God does not forgive,” discussing my bitterness and seething rage at horrors I had endured that I could not yet find myself ready to forgive, at all, and could barely discuss. I’ve grown since then, and it’s unlikely that I share much of who I am now with that wounded creature who was once me. I recognize the value in forgiveness, and the purpose it serves, I just still sometimes find it quite a difficult practice, in practice.

My Traveling Partner made mention of this particularly toxic ex recently. I don’t recall why, or what the context actually was, but I found myself curious and took at look at her web page. She doesn’t write much anymore, and I guess that’s no surprise; she once cautioned me discouragingly that maintaining a daily writing practice was “very hard to keep up” (which still amuses me, as a woman who has written more or less every day of my entire adult life, either pen & ink, or online, mostly without any particular effort required, and had done so since long before ever making her acquaintance). Her most recent entry was largely positive, expressing gratitude for being in a better place than she was some years ago. I found it interesting that I had no particular emotional reaction beyond “well that’s good see”, before moving on to things that were of far greater interest in the here and now.

She did a lot of harm. She did the harm she did by intent, and said as much at the time. I walked away from all that, but I carried some baggage for a long while and I stayed angry until… I don’t know when, actually. Some time ago, she – and the damage she had done – stopped being something that mattered to me at all. I no longer had the time or inclination to let her “live rent free in my head”, and I let all that go. In the process, I forgave her. I forgave the damage, the toxic bullshit and game-playing, the ugliness, the meanness, the lies, the violence, the narcissistic entitlement… all of it. Like a troll in a fairytale, she had no power over me, in life. I had turned the page on that story. Not gonna lie – I definitely don’t ever want to deal with her again (and hopefully I’ve learned enough to avoid similar people in the future), but forgiveness isn’t about forgetting, or excusing, or condoning, or permitting new hurts. Forgiveness is understanding with some measure of compassion that we’re each human, and each capable of some really shitty behavior – and letting it go, accepting the truth of what was, and moving on to something new and better. I wouldn’t want any part of having her in my experience now, but I also don’t grudge her finding her own peace or joy. Forgiveness lets me let her go, completely.

The sun is up. The sky is a soft blue. My coffee is warm and comforting. My heart is light. Forgiveness is still a difficult practice for me, but over time I’ve come to embrace it. I’ve forgiven those who have wronged me along the way. It’s been worthwhile to do so, although it doesn’t heal the damage done all by itself. There are still verbs involved in healing a wounded heart. It still takes time. It still takes work. It still takes a commitment to myself – and that’s where the forgiveness lies; I don’t benefit from continuing to use energy on hate and resentment and seething rage that could be more effectively used for healing myself, so at some point, it’s utterly necessary to “let shit go” and forgive those who have hurt me. They’re human, too, each having their own experience, wading through their own chaos and damage, and struggling with their own challenges. The damage they’ve done to me is a whole lot more about them than it ever was about me. Accepting that is an important step towards forgiveness.

…Forgiveness is an important step toward healing…

I finish my coffee and my thoughts. The sun is up, and it’s a new day unfolding ahead me. I smile, thinking about my Traveling Partner and the love we share. I feel relaxed and contented, and generally well; it’s a good beginning to the day. It’s already time to begin again.