(in which I begin to try to tie up some things I am learning)

Anger. A creature of many tentacles with whom I am not yet entirely comfortable.

(FYI I know my creature is very friendly looking. The thing is, she is MY anger, and that’s how she looks to me right now. When she’s a monster, not so friendly. But we are keeping it sweet here, today, in this post)

A number of years ago, when my rose colored glasses were shattered, I experienced an anger I had never felt before. I was pretty lucky to have my therapist there, to walk me through meeting this creature, and befriending her.

I learned that anger was a natural emotional response to many different kinds of things. It is a biological response of our brain to things around us and anger is important to our survival as human beings.

I learned anger is a part of a healthy grieving process. I began practicing healthy ways of expressing anger. I began naming anger. “Oh!” I would say to myself “ I am ANGRY!!!” “this is ANGER I feel”. It was wild. I thought I should feel guilty, but I didn’t.

I was introduced to the idea that anger is a gift. When Dr D came into our life, as our marriage therapist, his theology background was invaluable to the lessons I was learning, because we were able to explore the gift God had given me in my emotions, that all my emotions are ok, all of them are gifts.

Anger slowly became my friend. I began looking at this creature, and asking her “what are you trying to tell me?” I have written a bit about starting to listen to my instinct, and paying attention to anger has been a very similar.

Anger can tell me something is wrong inside me. It can alert me to a problem in a relationship, or something in the world outside me. Anger shows me dangerous people, and cries out from my deepest soul to defy injustice.

Anger can also be a cruel, cruel master. Anger can drive me to speak words I don’t want to speak. Anger can take over my body, and break a heart with a scream. Anger can rip apart my face and scare the people I love most. And that, my friends, is a terrible thing.

So, for me, getting to know this creature, this anger, has been both terrifying, and liberating.

Until about 2 weeks ago.

The pressure in my life, accompanying my pending divorce, was reaching a boiling point. (is there a point beyond boiling? If there is, I think I was actually at THAT point)

Reality was hitting me EXTRA hard all of a sudden. I was preparing to SELL MY HOME, FINALIZE MY DIVORCE, MOVE somewhere (but I didn’t know where) CLOSE MY BUSINESS, FIND A WAY TO SUPPORT MY CHILDREN ALL BY MYSELF… There was so much more, but you get the point. I know we all have our lists like this.

Basically, I am going through one of the biggest transitions of my life… and the people, the humans, I had always relied on to get through hard times WERE NO WHERE TO BE FOUND. My anger at my ex, and at my family of origin wasn’t just a creature, it was a MOTHER*&$King sea monster, and she was trying to take me down with her.

The rage I felt was so powerful, it was ALL I HAD. I could feel it in every minute of every day, and I quickly realized I couldn’t, and DID NOT WANT TO live this way.

There was a talk with my therapist, a few talks with friends. There was venting on the phone and there was crying over my dishes. There was raging in the garage, as I sorted stuff into boxes, and there was most certainly some cussing.

And then… as it always does… the opening and the shining and the breakthrough-ing began.

I named the anger. I said I am ANGRY I haven’t gotten child support in months. I am ANGRY my sisters aren’t here. I am ANGRY my mom won’t speak up for me. I am ANGRY I have to sell my house… and on and on and on.

The stuff I am angry about? Totally legitimate.

The way I feel? Natural

The things I want to do to the people that hurt me? Understandable

Being stuck here? Not cool

Being anger’s bitch? WAY not cool

I am washing dishes while having this conversation in my head,

“Hallie, give thanks”

for the anger? Give thanks for the anger?

“yes, give thanks for the anger”

I think that’s ungodly

“are YOU the one who decides what is ungodly?”

uh, not really

“so…”

and then I break wide open

“thank you for this anger. Thank you for my heart that sees. Thank you that I am sensitive to the spirit. Thank you that my brain and my body work so well. Thank you that I love justice. Thank you that I am healthy enough to recognize and name my emotions”

then, I ask myself a question

“is this what YOU WANT IN YOUR BRAIN?”

I think its ungodly for me to want or not want anything in my brain

“seriously? We are doing this? WHAT DO YOU WANT, HALLIE?”

I want LOVE in my brain, I sob.

I want kindness, I want compassion. I want goodness and freedom and life and light and joy and everything I could possibly ever ever EVER have from you! THAT’S WHAT I WANT, ok?!!!

“this is who your truly are. Lets release the anger so that you have room inside you for ALL THAT IS GOOD”

And now… I am doing this every time. EVERY SINGLE TIME.

I name it. I give thanks for it. I release anger. Then I welcome joy, I welcome love. And I am free. And then I start laughing.

I don’t know how long this will be my thing. But if grief and healing is like an onion, this is the layer that is being peeled back right now. And for that, I am GLAD.

2-5-17

Rain is all around my refuge, this dark morning. For many months, I have spent a night or two every week here, while my children’s father comes into the family home for his parenting time. In the beginning, I would text my friend to start the AC before I got here. I would wake up early, and drink my coffee and do my studies on the back patio, while I watched the deer.

The seasons have changed, and now I text a few hours ahead, and ask her to get the heater going. For some weeks, this refuge was coated in ice and snow. The bed is soft, I am alone, and I have reluctantly settled into this routine.

I haven’t felt safe in a very, very long time. As I turn the corner of this driveway, 9 times out of 10, tears are still streaming down my face. The 30 minute drive to here is usually a time of wailing. I don’t turn the music on, and that gives me the chance to face all the thoughts that can’t get faced when I am surrounded by my own small people, in the home that feels mine, yet not mine.

The kids that live here go about their life around me, share their joys. I witness tears and all the things that come with a house full of children and living. The friends who made this place safe make me food. Make me coffee. Popcorn. Share a family movie night. Share a time of scripture reading, or a moment of honest prayer. Sit and listen while I tell a story, or distract me from whatever with something much more interesting.

I watch the way they parent, I work on my sales while dishes are washed, and we listen to audio books. I feel their joys and sorrows ebb and flow. It is a privilege to be welcomed into the life of other’s like this.

I have been studying the gospel of John since September. There is this guy in there, of whom John speaks. He says thing like, “walk with me” “come and see” “sit with me” “eat with me” “feed my sheep”. This guy is always making a beeline for the oppressed, the shamed, the hopeless, the accused, the humbled.

Basically, he’s making a beeline for me.

This is love.

And this is the love I feel here.

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