Years ago, my life fell apart. I lost someone dear to me and suffered a series of devastating challenges that lasted five years beyond my initial loss. When the dust settled, I was livid. I felt completely justified, too. Life had treated me brutally, unfairly and cruelly, so I felt it was well within reason for me to adopt those same traits and give them right back to the world. This excerpt from my book, “I’ll Find a Way” tells of the day I learned what the price of holding on to my anger would be.
“One afternoon, as I exited the grocery store, I saw an old woman struggling in the parking lot. She’d spilled a handful of coins and her back was too brittle to allow her to bend and pick them up. She wore a tattered tan coat with dark spots of dirt and her ankles were so fat that they poured over the tops of her worn leather shoes. I contemplated passing her and leaving her to resolve her own problem or let someone else do it, but I couldn’t. I stopped and began picking up the coins.
“Those are mine!” She croaked. “You give them to me.”
“Of course I will give them to you, I’m only trying to help you.”
She stood hunched over with the shoulder closest to me raised up to place a barrier between us. I finished picking up all the coins and immediately handed them to her. She took them and plunged them deep into her bag, then grasped her cart and shuffled away without saying a word. I stood there incredulous as I watched her get into an ancient Ford Escort and inch away. I felt like saying, “F*** you too, lady. I was only trying to help.” Then a light turned on in my heart and with it came the understanding of how people become cynical, bitter and nasty. She wasn’t born untrusting and resentful; somewhere along her life’s journey she’d been deeply wounded and had never recovered. Eventually, she would die from heartbreak. As I caught the last glimpses of her stringy hair I saw my future self. If I let the anger and pain of my life have its way with me, I would become her. I felt a surge of compassion for the old woman. I couldn’t stop thinking about her and soon my compassion for her grew so great that something in me shifted. I wished I could tell her that love was stronger than every evil she’d suffered. She was long gone and I couldn’t tell her anything, but I could tell myself. I realized that I could do nothing about all the terrible things that had happened; I had no control over them. But, I did have control over how I responded. No matter what had occurred I had the power to choose love and goodness. Nothing could take that from me. I didn’t have to be soured and acrid.”
I’m not saying that anger has no place in our minds. It is natural. The important thing is that we acknowledge it, understand it and endeavor to release it as soon as we are able. We are the greatest sufferers under its burden. The easiest way for me to release pent up emotion is to write with abandon and when the pen stops moving, I put the paper in my fireplace and burn it. A friend of mine does push-ups or runs three miles, another goes surfing or paints wildly colorful pictures. I’ve heard Louise Hay tout closing the door and beating pillows as a way of expressing anger. Whatever harm-free method one chooses is fine. Just get it out. A better life is waiting for you if you seek it.
