Sometimes I feel like raging. It’s this big, powerful, encompassing heat that wants to take over, spilling, spewing, shooting out. Think fire coming out of my head and smoke billowing all around, a la the lava monster Teka in Moana.
Most of the time, I’m not even sure where it’s coming from, because it feels so unproportional to whatever set it off in the moment (toys on the floor, tears, a funny look, …). It feels like something that’s been bottled up, under pressure that’s continuing to build. And that can feel scary.
But nice girls don’t rage. They don’t get angry. So, most of the time I eat.
Sure, eating helps in the moment, but then it doesn’t. It kind of adds fuel to the fire under the guise of throwing on water to cool things off. And I’m starting to see this connection. But it doesn’t really touch the source.
I’m not sure the critical piece is to get to the core of the feeling. I don’t know if there is one specific thing anyway. Maybe I’m crazy, but I kind of suspect it’s a whole mess of things, including rage, tears, fears, and hurt from generations and lifetimes past. And while one inner voice always cries out: “Hide your crazy! Rage — we don’t do that!!”, another part knows there is something important to it. That it needs to be felt, experienced — and NOT pushed down, doused with water yet again. I’ve done that. The rage rages on when I do.
Maybe there is a sort of purification in the burning, a clarity that will emerge only after the old is gone. And so I have to let it burn, though I’m trying to practice it in a way that doesn’t burn down the world around me (yelling at my kids, snapping at my husband, hating on my body — this stuff burns the wrong stuff). I’m not always sure what the more helpful way looks like, though for now, morning exercise and writing seems to help. So I’ll keep doing it.
Those are my thoughts for today. Got a fire on your end? What would happen if you let it burn for a bit?