What shape does our anger take?
When we release the rage from the shoebox under our beds, does it become massive and furious, destroying the most delicate parts of our hearts? Burning through the tumbleweeds of our pleasant memories, making its way toward the people in our lives who least deserve it. There are those days, certainly.
Or, does it take on the shape of a sparkling bathroom, viciously deep-cleaned after some months of neglect? The toothbrush holder in the dishwasher, a trash bin full of products I had high hopes and false narratives for (this will be my Sunday face mask, and then my life will be perfect). An anger that scrubs the tub and crawls behind the toilet to wipe the twists and turns of plumbing I’ll never see (until next time). One that acknowledges the reality of expired mascara, but can’t apply the same logic to lipstick.
Other times, it curls up like a sick kitten in a sliver of sunshine—searching for comfort, for the warmth of recognition. This shape looks a lot like sadness, a precious wound that needs time and oxygen in order to heal. This is a liquid type; it flows freely, taking up residence in any vessel you put it in, washing itself out after a good cry and a warm drink.
And then there’s the anger that builds us into the next thing that we will become: a re-shaping, an invitation to look something squarely in the eye and say “no thank you that is not for me.” A redirection, a reminder, a reassuring foothold on a steep climb. She’s a commanding presence, a force for change.
This shape of anger cramps your hands open and forces your fingers towards the sun and your palm toward the sky.
Open to receiving help,
open to giving help, too.
Today’s Reminder:
Your anger is in your care; build it a soft home with your breath.
Next Steps: Drink a glass of water, take five deep breaths, then take five actual deep breaths because you can’t rush through this stuff and yes I’m calling you out.
The beauty in rage-cleaning