Hello there, people. It’s been a while… again. As I often do when I feel like I should say something, but I don’t know what to say, I was just reading some of my old posts. It turns out, in addition to being rather funny, I used to be very angry and very hurt. Sigh.
I read this post about my mother not believing that I was being sexually abused when I was a child. The hurt is palpable. A lot of old posts on this blog are painful to read, especially the ones written 10 or so years ago (yes, this blog is that old–2009 to be exact) when I was really struggling to make sense of my past and I was so very angry.
Well, here we are in 2022 and I’m happy to report that I don’t really give a crap anymore. I still get angry, particularly about politics (although significantly less now that a certain asshat is out of office), but I don’t seethe over my past all that much anymore. What’s done is done, and there’s no use carrying all that anger around with me. I’ve taken a metaphorical shovel and buried it in my backyard. It’s still within eyeshot, but it’s not in my pocket. It’s no longer jagged and spiky; it’s smooth like a river rock.
If any of you reading this are wondering how to quell your own anger, part of the reason I was able to put it away is this blog. Yelling in typed words helped quite a bit–not only by getting it out, but by having y’all out there respond with support and your own experiences. So, thank you for that.
That said, I think the main reason I’m not as angry anymore is, well, sadly, just age. I got old. I’m not the young whippersnapper I was in 2009. I’m still a long way from retirement, but I’m old enough now to have a midlife crisis.
As an aside, I don’t think I’ll be having a midlife crisis since, typically, those happen when you didn’t live it up enough in your youth. I’ve definitely got the living it up problem handled. I lived it up enough for several people.
Anyway, the old adage “time heals all wounds” has a lot of truth to it. Time helped, because the events that caused all the anger are long past their sell by dates and I’ve gained a lot of human experience in between. I’ve steeped in anger long enough. I’m tired of it.
So, no longer angry, but what replaced the anger isn’t exactly great either. It’s not like I replaced anger with love and cheer and rainbows. Now, the prevailing emotion, if you can even call it one, is languor. Not unpleasant, but not inspiring either–an emotional détente of sorts. Add to that my constant companion, major depressive disorder, and we’ve got a party for one in my bed with the covers pulled up over my head. Woo! Party!!1!
Still, I think it qualifies as progress. Anger may spur action, but it is an exhausting emotion to live with, particularly when those with whom you are angry don’t even get to feel your wrath. They say that hate only hurts yourself and that’s true, but it’s a hard thing to put down when you have so many reasons to carry it.
So, for you young’uns out there who are still angering it up, I’ll tell you, if you live long enough, there is hope. You’ll get to a point where you think to yourself “why am I holding this?” and you will set it down as naturally as setting down a cup of coffee. It may even get cold before you pick it up again.