Anger

Lately I have been very, very angry. Though trying incredibly hard to maintain a calm, peaceful, cheerful demeanor, inside my anger rages and bits spill out through the cracks. I have a lot to be angry about; the anger is entirely reasonable and justified. A wise friend counciled that I let myself accept and feel that anger. I told her I didn't know how. I don't. 

Driving from one practice across town to another ball game, wild angry sobs escaped me without me inviting them or being able to stop.  I almost pulled over. Unwanted and uninvited questions had popped into my mind. Immediately followed by their raw, brutal answers. 

What does anger mean to me? How do I see anger?

I see anger as I did as a child, whose first memory is talking to the police and riding in the back of an ambulance because my dad had crossed far past the line of safety when angry with my mother...again. The child who was consistently scared and embarrassed as police routinely showed up where she lived because her dad was angry. Always angry.  

Anger is loud. Anger is scary and bloody and hurts long after everything healed. Anger is wanting to die so that you could control it and he couldn't. Angry is uncontrolled, wild, and unpredictable. Anger is abandonment, as she left me behind to bear the brunt of rage after another argument or incident that was not to be tolerated. How could the dishes be stacked wrong again?

I still wince when I hear the sound of tires on gravel.  The sound that indicated he had arrived home. 

I am smart. Logically, I KNOW that anger can be healthy. That we need to accept all our emotions. I have talked to my children and made posters with them on healthy activities they can do when they are angry and upset. Emotional IQ is more important than intellectual prowess. 

Yet I still struggle. When I yell (and only yell) at the kids, which happens because I am human and so are they, I collapse inside due to the guilt. Exhausted, I indulge them later instead of following through on tv groundings or extra chores, creating act cycle of disrespect on both sides. 

I don't know how to fix it, though one of my 100 or so parenting books probably has a solution. I just don't have time to read it.  I know that this is not a family legacy I want to pass on. 

And I am still angry.