My problem is that I too easily move to the compassion phase and don't linger long enough in the anger/punishment phase. Mother Theresa would praise that (good Catholic girl) and people might call it enlightenment, but it's really a symptom of being an adult child of a rage-a-holic and being a co-dependent. The anger turns inward instead…
My problem is that I too easily move to the compassion phase and don't linger long enough in the anger/punishment phase. Mother Theresa would praise that (good Catholic girl) and people might call it enlightenment, but it's really a symptom of being an adult child of a rage-a-holic and being a co-dependent. The anger turns inward instead, "I could be more understanding!" So you're not wrong. Distance would help. But also-- I distance myself from the rage. From the anguish. As a way of not-feeling my own. I can be compassionate but not passionate.
As you can see, I need way more therapy and also some screaming into the void. I admire your ire, and I think part of that is a social construct that men are allowed and women are not. I usually turn that ire into really biting editorials. Or really acidic calls to customer service. Charming, no? (Look, I'm shaming myself for being angry even before the ink fucking dries on the page.)
I don't know, or, maybe I do know and I just can't?
I don't know that I am allowed to be angry. I think most people who know me personally would be surprised to know just how constantly seething I am. I am cursed with a loud voice and my emotions tend to go like one of those faucets that emits water in barely a trickle and then a nudge of the handle and its blasting full bore and out of the sink and all over the front of your pants and that is a horrible combination. So I don't feel allowed to let my voice rise even the slightest unless obviously in some kind of good humor because people, even those close to me, freak a little.
But is anyone, really? Anger is an emotion that society seems to want repressed. Like it's a "bad" emotion. Nor do I blame people, because for so many, the association of anger is with violence, and almost always from men. So whether it is allowed or not, dudes just take it and that sucks. My rage is expressed in print, or into a microphone, when expressed at all. The rest of the time it's just swallowed. Along with a lot of pizzas!*
*extra points to anyone who reads this and gets the John Candy/Dewey Oxberger/Stripes reference there at the end. You're welcome.
I think men of color are not allowed to be angry as much as white men, for sure. Angry white men are, like, the fucking thing. Everyone else gets regulated....
And.... I have lost my appetite for giving that any more space. Fuck the fucking angry white man (read: my father/brothers/exhusbands).
I love you and will happily stand here and watch you scream your head off if you want to. <3
My problem is that I too easily move to the compassion phase and don't linger long enough in the anger/punishment phase. Mother Theresa would praise that (good Catholic girl) and people might call it enlightenment, but it's really a symptom of being an adult child of a rage-a-holic and being a co-dependent. The anger turns inward instead, "I could be more understanding!" So you're not wrong. Distance would help. But also-- I distance myself from the rage. From the anguish. As a way of not-feeling my own. I can be compassionate but not passionate.
As you can see, I need way more therapy and also some screaming into the void. I admire your ire, and I think part of that is a social construct that men are allowed and women are not. I usually turn that ire into really biting editorials. Or really acidic calls to customer service. Charming, no? (Look, I'm shaming myself for being angry even before the ink fucking dries on the page.)
I don't know, or, maybe I do know and I just can't?
I don't know that I am allowed to be angry. I think most people who know me personally would be surprised to know just how constantly seething I am. I am cursed with a loud voice and my emotions tend to go like one of those faucets that emits water in barely a trickle and then a nudge of the handle and its blasting full bore and out of the sink and all over the front of your pants and that is a horrible combination. So I don't feel allowed to let my voice rise even the slightest unless obviously in some kind of good humor because people, even those close to me, freak a little.
But is anyone, really? Anger is an emotion that society seems to want repressed. Like it's a "bad" emotion. Nor do I blame people, because for so many, the association of anger is with violence, and almost always from men. So whether it is allowed or not, dudes just take it and that sucks. My rage is expressed in print, or into a microphone, when expressed at all. The rest of the time it's just swallowed. Along with a lot of pizzas!*
*extra points to anyone who reads this and gets the John Candy/Dewey Oxberger/Stripes reference there at the end. You're welcome.
Boom shakalakalaka.
I think men of color are not allowed to be angry as much as white men, for sure. Angry white men are, like, the fucking thing. Everyone else gets regulated....
And.... I have lost my appetite for giving that any more space. Fuck the fucking angry white man (read: my father/brothers/exhusbands).
I love you and will happily stand here and watch you scream your head off if you want to. <3
Thank you. ❤️