Anger is a necessary part of the healing process. Rage is the master!
I can remember time and time again my great counselor advising me to go into the woods with a baseball bat and beat my rage out against the trees. I never took his advice but I probably should have.
Instead, I let years and years of anger flood down my face in agony. I suppose if I had beat the sense out of those trees, I would’ve released all that rage sooner instead of internalizing the anger and taking it out on myself.
There was a time in my life I can remember feeling that if I were to tap into that inner rage I might explode. It seems a difficult concept to write down, but I literally thought my tapped rage would somehow kill my very existence.
I’m still here but my rage was terrifying to me.
Anger at a guy that cuts in front of you on the street is one thing. The current of rage that exists from year after year being abused by those that are supposed to love you takes a strong toll.
Unapologetically, my abusers went on and lived their lives. I had a desire to rage against the world as a result of their seemingly graceful existence. How dare they live! They didn’t even deserve their next meal and yet they laughed and entertained their friends.
I was furious!
So, you know what I did?
I made myself pay. I drank too much. I hung out with other abusive people. I never ate.
Makes no sense looking back but it’s the only thing I had at my disposal, I suppose.
How did I exorcise my rage? That’s a good question. It took me many, many years. I put words to it in scathing emails that I sent to my abusers, I raged in my home until I would break down in tears and sob, I let it alive in my body and in my life.
My rage deserved it’s own voice, so I gave it one. It didn’t kill me! Quite the opposite. When I let it loose, it set me free.
Me and my brother in February 1968. I will witness a murder in four months.
Today, I am grateful. It’s all over! Now, I get to live.