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I wrote three separate sessions for this topic and I still want to write more. The thing with brain dumping is it is like opening a door, or beginning a song. It is an invitation into more - which is what makes it so healing. The free flow nature allows the space for the subconscious mind to do its work. Space between writing allows that same wisdom to flow when you aren't aware of it so later, coming back to write again becomes easier.
I think my lifelong habit of veering into denial rather than any form of pain makes this more challenging than it may be to some. I'll keep coming back to it.
Anger Part I
I’ve mever been a good one at handling anger. I see anger, I get scared. I run from it. When I feel anger, I eat. I literally stuff it. I allow myself to feel sad, but rarely very rarely, mad. When people say “we need to talk” I assume an angry outburst directed at me. Delay, deport, distrus with all your might. (My, my, my how much ego can one paragraph hold?
It would be more constructive to own my anger. To honor it, thank it see its purpose and practice detaching from it. Depression = rage. Overweight = anger, anger, anger. I learned to mollify anger (or the possibility of anger) with food. Stuff your mouth so no evil beasts would spew forth,
Above all don’t risk people not liking me. If people decide to suddenly not like me, there is the ever present risk of not liking, abandoning and disowning me.
When I get angry I retreat (not in a good way).I ruminate alone. I eat. I write, sometimes I write! Onomatopoeia works well when angry. Words that have P’s and hard K sounds – sometimes actually C’s but cut or cackle or crawdaddy.
I’m pretty adept at not getting angry.
A lifetime of denial, avoidance, “It takes too much energy to hate,” ground into me like a flour mill, baked into my Julie cake, bread, mixed up in salt and baking soda, stirred into our instant breakfast.
Its not that I want to hate but some healthy disgust or abhorrence might just be a good thing.
I can’t muster much when denial is served in heaping trays (no wonder Mom overfed us!)
Eeeeep. I would rather have learned and intuited my way through healthy anger than have zero ability to translate.
I’ve gotten much better with sad, grief, disappointment, but volatility eludes me completely.
The Next Day – Part 3:
Volatility eludes me completely. My magic cape is in the dry cleaner, my magic wand is in the shop. Denial has a power all its own, a simple to mix elixir. (“That’s the way, honey, that’s the way.”)
Those spurts and blurts and scratchy throated confessions cause others to look at you weirdly.
“Thous shalt not appear unconventional (odd, unique, quirky, weird, original, different, weirdo) because we all know those attributes are contagious.
Volatility smells like gunsmoke, black, grey smudgy. Makes a mess. Forget about it. Pretend it away. Forgive the intrusion. Don’t aim that here. No looking at mirrors, no sharing information or you’ll get into trouble. Stupid together, unsafe. Words, don’t write them down. Make no promises. People will expect you to fail.
Stop it now.