My previous posts about being angry were, apparently, upsetting to some. (I received negative feedback from about four different people.) I have really thought about my outbursts and talked through the experience with a couple of my closest friends and have a lot of feelings in response to those who were made uncomfortable by my feelings.
Getting crazy angry is a sign of the need to change. And when you feel stuck in your life and unable to conjure the energy/motivation to create that change, anger gets you unstuck and moving on it. Anger is an authentic feeling. This feeling has been pushed down, pushed around, hidden, masked, betrayed, ignored, and denied. Women are especially adept at keeping displays of anger buried. This, I believe, is a fault. A fault that I have!!
It is possible to really appreciate one's own anger. I wouldn't have believed this before last night, before my dearest friend Kristy simply explained my angry emotional outburst as a turning point. She said that in a month or two I will be able to look back and pinpoint that day as the day change started happening. It was, from her point of view, the moment I realized that *I* need to be a priority too. From my perspective I can definitely say that it was the point at which I could admit my need for help and also absorb the idea of putting Annabelle in some sort of daycare without feeling crushing guilt. For that I am grateful and could have probably stood to punch the microwave a couple more times.
Honestly, I don't know why anger is supposed to be so embarrassing. Are people so repressed that they can't admit when something pisses them off? Do people endure their whole lives without ever feeling uncontrollable anger? Are those people in denial or leading very shallow lives? Feel free to enlighten me.
Dave and I have a little inside joke between us. It's a joke that's not a joke. When we had just barely started dating he called me a lady. I was quick to correct him: No! I am NOT a lady. We laughed, because the implication of what it means to be unlady like is actually pretty funny and wide-ranging. (The term "un-ladylike behavior" could be used to describe an adolescent girl wearing pants and a boy's shirt as equally as it could be used to describe a bawdy sort of call girl.) To me, a lady is a woman who is demure, who follows the rules (and The Rules!), who doesn't speak her mind, who never expresses anger, and who worries more about social decorum than self-actualization and authenticity. I, most certainly, am not a lady. And when we are out in the world people inevitably refer to me as a lady. When that person get out of ear shot Dave happily proclaims, "Oh! You're no lady!" We laugh. He gets me. He likes the joke. And it's a compliment.
Certainly every generation before mine believes, more or less, that being a lady is good. I can't fault them. Ladies serve a purpose out in society. Ladies make for some very excellent reading material. And I don't think I'm in great company with my thoughts on the anger subject or the lady subject, but I don't care. You may be reading thinking that you've always identified as a lady. Great. You might also be taking offense to my opinion. Not great. I don't mean to upset anyone, this is simply my opinion. If you agree or disagree leave a comment.
I'm not writing this post to make people happy, just to offer a little more perspective to the criticism I received. It's just my blog. A space to purge thoughts. A MUCH NEEDED outlet. A lot of my readers and my favorite bloggers are becoming my friends and have offered perspectives that have changed me as a person. Here in Orange County I feel lonely. Here in the blogsphere I have a community of parents that buoys me up when I'm drowning.
