Stepping Out of Anger, Into Something a Little More Comfortable

Stepping Out of Anger, Into Something a Little More Comfortable

For the first time in my whole life, my first response was not anger.

I was raised by an angry man. Anger was his immediate reaction to any slight- perceived or real- and it became my second language. Automatic. 

I have letters my dad wrote me when I was a toddler, and in one, he points out that I have a temper. For one, dad, I was two, and for two, I LEARNED IT FROM WATCHING YOU. But seriously, maybe she's born with it, maybe it's hammered into her every day from the time she came out of the womb. No one will ever know.

As I moved into my teenage years especially, everything was a cause for anger. No need to look deeper. Anger is fast, it's easy, it's cheap.

And it works. Get mad, watch people get out of your way. 

I was interested in politics from a young age, and most likely because I was interested in people, in making things better for others, more fair, more just, more equitable. 

I studied history because I wanted to understand how we "got here," and how we could "do better" in the future by learning from our collective mistakes, from understanding the nature of propaganda, hate speech, restrictive laws, how racism, sexism, classism, colonialism, patriarchy are baked into a capitalist pie and shoved in our faces. 

Mostly, I was an idealistic kid who wanted everyone to play fair, be true to their word, and treat others with kindness. Don't like someone being gay/Black/trans/an immigrant/*insert identity here*? Keep that shit to yourself, treat them like a human being, and move on. Deal with your bigotry in your own time. 

Despite being told I was Eeyore, a storm cloud, the Camel with The Wrinkled Knees, always looking for the negative, I truly believe I grew into a bit of an optimistic adult. I believe you have to loudly and accurately describe the *wrong things* so they can be addressed, be it someone's shitty racist beliefs or how our systems allow for corruption. To me, it's not being negative- it's an accurate categorization and understanding of a problem. Which is probably why I listen to so many podcasts that track and debunk RW nonsense- because I want to fully see and understand the nuances of the problems in order to find a solution. 

I make sense of the world through an overload of information, synthesizing it, and attempting to shine a light on darkness.

And I spent a lot- a LOT of my adulthood (nearly all of it)- being mad about things I truly could not change. I hear Blake rolling his eyes from the beyond and huffing, "FINALLY."

I couldn't change the overturn of Roe. I couldn't make America writ large understand racism and why George Floyd and Breonna Taylor and hundreds and hundreds of others should be alive. I can't force someone to accept that LGBTQ+ people are just people, being themselves, not out to harm kids.

There were many nights I beat myself up, thinking "if only I were in the room! If only I marched more, yelled more loudly! Got more involved with X or Y group, I could've changed this! I could've SAVED US." 

This thinking, dear reader, reeks of delusions of grandeur, white saviorism, narcissism, and sheer impossibility. There is simply no way. I am not invited into the room. My protest activity makes *me* feel better and more connected, but doesn't necessarily lead to instant change. My donating or getting involved with different groups helps, sure, but no large change happens overnight, without struggle.

My anger usually wound up with me doing nothing but stewing. I did not work, I did not "self-care," I sat and stewed in my rage, trying to craft the perfect argument to win hearts and minds, to make people SEE that love and kindness and equity and compassion and humanity are the answers. 

And in seeing that, my default was back to anger. Anger at the system, anger at the grifters profiting off manipulating people's fear, anger at my fellow humans for holding shitty fucking beliefs, anger at myself because I failed to ~*just make people see.*~ LOL, cute.

Anger is a powerful emotion, to be sure. It is motivating for many folks, although I never properly learned how to channel it into action- perhaps because it was a cheap emotion, one deployed dozens or even hundreds of times a day, as the solution to anything and everything. 

---

Recently, I took a writing workshop at the National Cathedral, focused on the themes of social justice and compassion. 

We wrote about the statues at the High Altar, which represent Matthew 35-40: 

For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in,  I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me.’

         “The King will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and            sisters of mine, you did for me.’

We wrote and talked about practicing compassion for all people (even those imprisoned by values we find distasteful, which...is hard) and how we may find compassion for ourselves, our neighbors, etc.

And something happened. 

When I watched the election  results roll in, upset, scared, angry (but not surprised), my first response was anger. But something happened in my brain, as if outside my control, as if I were merely a witness to it: I unbuttoned the cloak of my anger and set it down. 

Anger has been my protector, even when it hindered me, stopped me from doing anything. Anger is my cloak, but it also slows me down. 

I stepped into compassion, which felt lighter. Easier. While I'm not at "practicing compassion for hooting dickholes, gleeful at stripping rights from Americans and cheering over people's fear" levels (hey, I'm not going for sainthood), my heart softened.

Don't misunderstand: I am mad. I am scared. I see a self-proclaimed wanna-be dictator stepping to power in a moment where the far-right is gaining ground worldwide. I see the "adults in the room" have stepped out, while the sycophants gained power. I see the guardrails of SCOTUS, of Congress, burning shockingly red, flames licking at the corners of our country. 

I saw four years of chaos, and I know we are not ready for whatever is coming next.

And yet...

I live in blue district, blue state. I am a white woman. I have financial stability. I have multiple degrees. I have a lot of privilege, and I know many, many of my friends and loved ones and neighbors find themselves in far, far more precarious places as we enter this uncharted, terrifying, fascist-colored territory.

My compassion made me lighter than my anger. I saw the ways in which I could support, see, hear people who are scared. I saw the ways in which I could build the world I want to live in, subtle ways to build community that does not rely on the state, ways in which I could continue to push for the things I believed in that will outlive this election cycle, and the next, and the next, and eventually, outlive me entirely. 

My compassion made space for community action. 

In compassion and love, I can move. I can breathe. I can see. I can *think.* I can simply be. 

I've never once, in 36 years, felt this way- calm and proactive, instead of angry and reactive. 

---

Anger is a gift, and it is powerful and necessary. I didn't learn how to wield it properly. Maybe you did. Maybe your anger is a gift. Maybe your gift is joy, or creativity, or passion. 

We're going to need all the gifts we have. 

And today, I finally understand how to "lead with love" and I'm going to try this for a while.