Five years ago I would have emphatically given a negative response to the question, “Are you an angry person?” but over time that answer has changed.
Four years ago- “Well, I mean you know, I feel anger like anyone else I suppose.”
Three years ago- “I might feel a little more anger than one might accept as normal.”
Two years- “I have anger issues.”
One year- “I feel a lot of anger.”
This year, last month, this month, this week, yesterday, today -
“I’m pissed. My sarcasm shows it, the pressure behind my eyes show it, the tightly bound muscles in my neck, my back and my shoulders reflect the anger and anxiety I feel. The answer to the question is a definite “Yes, I’m angry.”
What do I plan to do about that? Do I plan to change it? Not right now, no. For the first time in a very long time I can say I’m angry and not have to justify it. I can express it in better ways than I have but I CAN express it. I don’t have to accept the belief that I can be angry as long as I hide it. I’m angry. There it is, I’m angry.
How Angry Am I?
Thursday, January 24, 2008-2:52PM EST
I went outside with my mother and sister and danced in the rain.
I remember getting up from my mother’s fit of rage, turning on the radio and dancing to 80’s music to toss out memory of what was just done.
I remember standing on a balcony 21 stories above the city gazing at a perfect rainbow with complete strangers. The rainbow seemed to hang forever.
I remember hanging out of a six story window looking down, not sure if the mother would really push me that time.
I remember sitting on a dock by the Gulf of Mexico with my feet dangling in the water. A huge bird came and sat beside me. I froze as he ate my shrimp fishing bait.
I remember sailing with my uncle. My fear of water started there. I wondered if I could actually swim back to shore.
I remember standing at Pier 17 with friends laughing at this guys miniature tie. He caught my eye as he walked to the building. The man was gorgeous and well dressed. As he got closer I could see his tie was about 4 inches long instead of full size. We all laughed at such a silly style.
I remember kids making fun of me because I wore torque heals clear up into the 4th grade.(I was born with a club foot, it took awhile to correct.)
I remember where I was standing the day of the Tiananmen Square massacre. My TV screen went black, there was gunfire and shouting. I was stunned. What an awakening.
I remember what it feels like to be shot.
I remember standing in the same spot hearing the country was at war to liberate Kuwait. Yet another rude awakening for a world I didn’t think could get any worse.
I remember the first thing I ever really stood for. I refused to buy Coke products and called Coke the official drink of Apartheid because they wouldn’t do the right thing and pull out of South Africa.
I remember where I was standing just before I liberated myself from an abusive household.
As long as my mouth is open I’m okay. I may laugh or rant and rave but as long as I’m talking I’m okay. It’s when I get quiet that I start to worry myself. I’ve noticed when I’m angry, really angry, my behavior changes. I get quiet (red flag for me). I lean to the right, cross my legs, the right tightly over the left. My chin is held by my left hand covering only part of my mouth. My fingers are extended, one finger on my temple the others half way covering my mouth. Eye contact is good. I’m searching the person’s face for some slight up turning of the mouth to indicate that they’re just kidding, they couldn’t possibly be this offensive seriously. If I could get you to burst out laughing and go, “Gottach!” I could at least take a deep breath before giving a good cussing I’d give to anyone who pranked me.
Continue reading ‘When I’m Angry and Tired’
Life consists not in holding good cards but in playing those you hold well.
Josh Billings
It feels like I’m in a house of cards with a strong wind coming in. It would be nice to think this house will stand.
I remember making my first loaf of bread at age eight. I had all the ingredients but one. I was sure it would turn out just fine. It turned out flat. That’s when I discovered yeast is important.
I remember making my first pan of fried chicken. I put flour on the chicken, put it in the pan and expected it to fry. There was no golden crust like at Kentucky Fried Chicken. I later realized water isn’t the same as oil. Age eight was a year for learning.
I remember climbing to the top of the house and jumping off the roof. I wasn’t playing Superman I thought I was the guy from the show The Greatest American Hero. While climbing I sang the song: “Believe it or not I’m walking on air. I never thought I could be so free-e-e. Flying away on a wing and prayer, who could it be? Believe it or not it’s just me.” Leap, crash, repeat.
Continue reading ‘Random Memory Friday: I Remember When’
I don’t set real New Years resolutions. I think of them as goals I plan to not ever reach. For instance, I told myself years ago I’d do better with organizing my disks. I keep artwork on disk, I keep other data on disk and I swore so long ago I’d do better about organizing them. Years of failing to do that proves that resolution pointless. Am I going to the gym? Who am I kidding? I do my stretches most mornings and before bed but getting out to a gym is just crazy talk.
I did keep up my once a week water resolution where I have water all day (and one cup of coffee). I did that to make sure that at least one day a week my body wasn’t polluted with soda and Kool Aid and all that. I have to give the poor little body a break. And I did stick with having one fried meal a month. I feel rather cheated if I don’t get a meal that starts with high fat and ends one beta blocker short of a heart attack. I stick to my one fried meal a month thing so that’s good. Add that to the water and I’d say I’m a bit healthier than 3 years ago. What I’ve discovered is that if my resolution doesn’t have to do with food it falls to the way side. This is why I’ve resolved to overcome my cookie disability. I didn’t spend all that time in Culinary School to only be known for my bread. So, I’ll be practicing with fresh ingredients until I am Cookie Queen.
What better time to start than the present. Last night started my plan to rule the cookie world. My diabolical plan was set in motion and I do believe I am one step closer to ruling the world with an evil spoon. I made cookies, not box cookies but homemade cookies and they turned out darn good. I will not be defeated. Short breads will not get the best of me. I will dominate. I shall be queen. I’ll own the cookie world (wha ha ha ha ha).
Sincerely, Your Queen
Austin aka CQ
Part of me would like to lay low today and do nothing at all. Therapy yesterday was kinda brutal. I took in the same photos that I let Dr. T see awhile back. Dr. D, my current therapist, saw exactly what I saw with very little prompting. One of the main themes in those pictures that I missed was how the pictures of the children do not include adults until the older years. We aren’t touching each other much and are spaced apart almost perfectly. The faces of the children show stress that increases with age. That I noticed but I hadn’t seen the fact the young children are pictured alone. Not until we hit our teen years are children seen in the same photos as adults. Most of the pictures of my cousins, my sister and myself are staged. We are being photographed but we are certainly not participating or want to be photographed. In the photos of me around age 10 and up I’m no longer looking dead into the camera. My sister looks into the camera from her early years to the oldest picture I have of her which is her senior year in high school.
Continue reading ‘Photo Flashes’
I jokingly said that I hoped a friend of mine survived Christmas because she’s had some major stuff pop up during the last few holidays. She had the water heater go out, the next major holiday the stove went out. Christmas Eve her oldest brother died. I was shocked when I got the call….absolutely shocked. What shocks me more is the amount of pressure on her to keep her family together, to console a widow, brothers and sisters, write a eulogy and attend a funeral. It’s crazy the amount of pressure on her to keep her family moving. They’re a large family, all well employed, all successful as the world defines it but only one person keeps that family running. They depend on her for everything and she serves them unwaveringly. I wonder if anyone in the family has asked her how she’s doing or told her how sorry they are for her loss? I wonder if they all just lean on her for support, for meals, for laundry, for everything and look over the fact that she herself is one person caring for a multitude? It is amazing how people forget her needs. Someone else may buy the bread but it is her that puts the butter on it and it’s her that warms it and sets it on the table and makes sure it goes down just right. How one can be taken for granted at that level is simply mind blowing.
Continue reading ‘Taken For Granted’
Of course she’s been on my mind for weeks now. I mean come on, I was with her for a long time but it would be nice to have her only on my mind when I can control the content. What strikes me about this dream is she popped up out of nowhere bringing in Captain and a puppy I’d gotten that looks just like Captain. I’d left Cap at the doctor’s office in the yard. He was playing while I got a massage but somehow I forgot to get him and the pup before I got in the cab and went home. She showed up with both of them. She showed up rather unannounced too. She’s changed her hair to a style she and I once talked about. She said as a child people pressured her into getting a spiral perm but she saw how horrible it looked on others and refused to get one. There she stood in my kitchen trying to comb out this spiral perm that she dyed jet black. It looked just as awful as we both figured it would. She was willing to do anything, lose herself, offer her peace of mind, to have me back. She was the same desperate woman I knew before. She was also the same woman I’d been in love with before we even got together.
Continue reading ‘Dream Therapy: Dreams and Longing’
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