anger - quotes and descriptions to inspire creative writing
Anger is sadness in fight-mode.
When I'm feeling triggered the world and everyone it is behind fifty feet of glass. Loving bonds become inaccessible. In this mode I have to take great care not to damage bonds of love, the relationships and people who are everything to my heart and soul. For in time the glass disappears and my love returns. I wish I could stop the triggering, but if I feel unprotected or left to fend for myself it returns - it is survival mode, cold and indifferent. Yet even in these times I am cognisant of my morality. I still make good choices. I can still imagine what the better version of me would want me to do and then carry that out. I can't undo the trauma I've been through, but I can adapt and overcome.
When I was at my lowest, when others took not what I could afford to give, but all that I was. When my health began to fail because they took so much in an emotionally indifferent and manipulative way, anger saved my life. I got angry enough to save myself. I needed it. A bit of righteous anger in the right moment, in the right situation, can be a very good thing.
In a world that fails to see the soul as essential to all interactions, there will be anger. For we are born with the need for such soulful sight into others and from others.
"Anger is a dysfunction," said Professor Orbit, "yet how is it function? For there exist real answers. In a survival dog-eat-dog world that anger and quick reaction over slower more cerebral responses may keep you alive. That's a function. And so while we can treat symptoms, the real cure exists in our society, our culture, the environment each baby is born into."
Anger, pain, sadness - so intertwined that perhaps their names aught to be tweaked to reflect the true origins of those emotions.
This kitchen table has seen every emotion, from the sweet silent happiness of family times, when the only sound is contented enjoyment, to the rage that bursts out in the hard times. From its rich cream surface the wood beneath peaks through, as if to remind us that we are the same, that in those tough times we can learn how to show our beauty and true strength instead of the anger that damages us all.
Ted really lived is anger, almost as cartoon characters do, so lost in that moment and the torment his brain was in. I'd see it first in his eyes, then a tension of his muscles, an inability to think clearly soon followed. The rational Ted was offline and the primitive Ted who reverted to his old habits was in the room. Suddenly his liberal opinions were gone, his ability for nuance and emotional generosity were gone too. His fists would stay firmly by his sides, yet his words did more damage than they ever could. But we agreed a while back to use a dog training technique when he got mad, one to remind him that anger is born of pain and sadness, that he needed to calm himself, find himself, ignite his feelings of love and protectiveness in that moment of anger. So, when we saw those flickers of fire we blew him a kiss, and instead of saying, "God damn it," he learned to say, "God love me," through that gravelly rage, and I'm telling you, when he managed it, there wasn't a dry eye in the house.
For the most part, addictions are to stuff that's bad for you; that's how I was with anger. When things calmed down, when everything was nice, that's when I'd find fault in someone or something. I was the the emotional volcano, convinced it was the fault of others, or circumstance.I never wanted to be that way; it's the trait I most disrespect in others... maybe that explains a lot. Don't they say that most folks are mean not because they struggle to like you, but because they struggle to like themselves? Ted said, "Respond, don't react, breathe, take yourself out of the situation, be a fly on the wall for a second, let love back in." It's not like that was magic. I still blew hot, but it became better over time, less often. I started to see the real things that caused it, not the things I believed I was angry about. It was the petty frustrations of life, the things that flicked my anxiety switches, that or the things that made me sad. I'd felt entitled to better treatment from others, consideration and respect. I still think I'm worthy of those things, but these days I let it go, trust that the right people will come into my world. It took a while, but the addiction is over. Now it's the reverse, and in any anger situation I'm the cool one, the help instead of being part of the problem.
My anger would come like an impossible build up steam, burning me on the way out, burning the one on the receiving end. I can tell you honestly, every time I ever blew I reckoned the other person deserved it. There was the explosion and then the mental framework afterwards to avoid guilt, avoid owning the shame that was mine. That's how I stayed so foolish for so long, so immature, refusing to learn over and over - sacrificing who I was supposed to be to keep a pristine ego. But that pain, that realisation, when I let it in, was more school than any classroom ever was. If I kept on being angry, how could I love anyone right? How could I begin to love myself?
There is a scream from deep within that forces its way from my mouth, it is as if my terrified soul has unleashed a demon. All I feel is anger, all I feel is that I don't want to be friends with anyone at all because then I don't have to trust anyone, it'll be safer, easier to choose not to stay. And I know I'm hiding a truth from myself, of how much this is really to do with sadness and the scars that just won't heal. Yet these fists clench and my teeth lock up once the sound is out. I'm just gonna have to walk away for a while, see this "elephant" from a few miles away, figure it out.