For many years I was angry.
Angry at myself for staying somewhere I knew I should not be. Angry that I let someone else’s actions
destroy my world. Angry that I couldn't confide in those I loved most and angry that when I tried and was patted on the
head like the obedient dog I had become.
My grandfather used to say, “Enough is enough and too much is
nasty.” I had, had enough anger, I had
had too much of it and it was nasty. I've often heard that fear robs us of joy, anger does as well. Anger will eat at you, anger will change your
perspective and make you lose focus. One
day I woke from my anger induced stupor and decided to take the matter in hand
and do what I could to make anger not be a daily part of my life. It was one the sweetest gifts I have ever
given myself. The hard thing is not
often the easy thing to do, but sometimes the hard thing to do is the right
thing to do.
If I reflect on my childhood I remember many things. Some good, some not so good, some
benign. Were I to focus on only the
things that made me angry, I’d be angry still.
People who do this tend to lead lives filled with vindictiveness and
self-perpetuation of their anger issues.
Now, I am of the old school that believes no matter what mistakes
your folks made you respect them. They
put food on the table, clothes on your back…and they are human. I set a good example for my boys in allowing
them to know of my own mother’s lack of friendship with me, and yet let them know
that I loved her in spite of that. We
can love someone and not like them very much.
I was always respectful to her...regardless.
My youngest son lives his anger.
He lives it daily. His anger is
based in me, his mother.
My youngest says he remembers me doing any number of heinous
things to him. He not only says he
remembers them but when he thinks of me he re-lives those things. He feeds his anger regularly on these
things. You can point out logical things
to him, such as, ‘if any of these things are true, what kind of father does it
make your father to not notice, what of your aunts, teachers, church people?’
it doesn’t matter. In his heart, these
things are true.
· He
cannot see the wonderful things I did for him, as he has his heart filled with anger
for me.
· He
cannot see the thoughtful things I did for him, as he has his heart filled with
anger for me.
· He
cannot see how I fought for him to do the things he wanted to do, and dreamed
big with him because his heart is filled with anger at me.
· He
cannot see the time we are missing together and the love I have for him as his
heart is filled with anger for me.
One day I will be gone. I
used to wonder if he would come to regret not finding me and talking all this
out when that happens. I no longer
do. He likely won’t. His anger has consumed his ability to
reason. I’ve reached out. I’ve emailed.
I’ve called. I’ve tried talking
to others to try reach out to him.
I can do no more.
Recently I was informed my son's vindictiveness, due to his anger, had spilled into my public life. He was actively doing something to cause me public harm. His anger toward me was that hot
coal. He was using that coal to attempt to hurt
me. In the end his angry attempt didn't hurt me. It helped me!
I could have become angry at his doing this, but I've learned the
joys of not carrying anger. I could have
used the hurt it caused to make me feel the same for him as he does for
me. I haven’t.
What his hot coal did was this…it permitted me to let him go. Oh, I still love him, heart and soul. I still think of him and smile. I will not allow anger to rob ME of that. I will allow his anger, however, to help me
move along. To know that sometimes, it
is best to let go, and let be.
I’m through with hot coals, whether holding them myself, or
watching others try to lob them at me.
Life is short, I hope to make it sweet.
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