Anger

It seems like I spend a great deal of my life being angry.

Looking at me, talking to me, knowing me, you wouldn't think I'm an angry person. I'm not in that sense of the word, I suppose. I'm not a punch the walls, kick an animal, alienate everyone I know type of angry person. Mine goes much deeper than that. And I can't say that I'm angry about anything specific. More like angry at circumstances. Angry at myself. Angry at the air I breathe. I have the type of anger that is indescribable. And it is for that reason that I cannot let it escape. I don't even think I know how to let it escape. I have no outlet. Though that's not for trying. It's just that it goes so deep, winds through every fiber of who I am, I think I would crumble into nothingness without it.

Honestly I don't think being this angry is all that bad. It's not all-consuming ruining my life. Not that I can see, anyway. Perhaps I'll look back twenty years from now and go "Wow, I really should've seen that coming." But for now I'm good. I think it's my driving force. Or would be my driving force if I got off my ass. But that's another blog.

So what am I angry about? What am I not angry about is more like it. Oh I have a lot of issues. I know this. It would make for interesting conversations if I had people to talk to myself about. People other than myself, I mean. At least I entertain myself with my tales.

I get angry about how I was treated in school. First grade through twelfth grade were not my best years. First through sixth grades were particularly hellacious. I'm angry at the people who couldn't accept me for who I was. I'm angry that I couldn't accept myself for who I was and therefore couldn't adequately defend myself to those people. I'm angry that all that still follows me to this day.

What else?

I'm angry at the way I grew up. Not where I lived or my parents or anything (though some of that was weird - another blog, again). But I grew up shackled to religion. Not even religion, but a church. I don't even know where to begin with that. Again - another blog. That's a very large, tangled can of worms. That's all I'm gonna say about that. For now.

I'm angry that my life isn't what I thought it would be, what I want it to be, what it should be. And I'm angry that I have no earthly idea what any of that means or what I want it to mean. No, I'm not confused. Just...in limbo. Yeah that's a good word. Neither here nor there. And not sure where here or there actually are or what they mean.

As I said before, I try to have outlets. Writing - whether through poetry or through blogging or through good old fashioned pen and paper journaling. Music - I love any and all music. It depends on my mood what I listen to and the music either expresses my feelings or at least soothes them. Whatever they may be. Books - I have been in love with books and reading since I can remember. Words have power. They can transport you to other places and make you forget yourself just for that moment. Reading is my meditation. Vegas - I know, I know. How does that work? Vegas is the first place I have been where I was completely transformed into me. I didn't expect it. At all. I turned into the me I know myself to be and it was ok. I found out that I liked that me that no one else sees.

And that's where I am now. Slowly transforming into the real me. Screw what everyone else may think or expect me to be or do. I'm doing me. Which is why I'm not too concerned about the anger. Sometimes transformation is not particularly neat or comfortable. And with that comes anger as I discover things, think about things, dwell on things too long hidden. It's refreshing. It's exciting. It's angry. And it's wonderful.