Two cantankerous old friends

I know anger, only too well. It is the death of the spirit, like burning in Hell. It also feels pretty good at times, quite seductive. I indulge from time to time.  Some of my best posts have been about anger.

Rigidity, that's a harder nut to crack. I've lived a pretty open and unpredictable life, railing against convention more often than not.  I don't understand a rigid adherence to social norms. I'm not putting it down, I just don't I see the world that way.  

I have a friend who is as different from me as could be. She is extremely private and conforms to all sorts of "rules." I struggle to understand boundaries. I drive her crazy. We bicker. I try to respect her boundaries and the way she lives her life. I'm not going to lie, sometimes I fail.  She doesn't hold back, she's honest and direct and I admire that. If she was passive aggressive, I wouldn't have found her interesting. We often tease each other and try to wind each other up. Our shared friends don't really know what to think. Sometimes they laugh, sometimes they step away.  

I would miss her unique perspective if we stopped being friends. I would miss the bickering, if truth be told. I've learned a lot about myself by trying to understand our differences. I think we are both better people for accepting each other for who we really are. Plus, there are plenty of things we agree on and relate to each other over.

I'm pretty sure writing about her is against "the rules." However, I have no fear that she will see this and get mad at me, only because she won't see it. Years ago when I started writing this blog I asked her to read it. She told me she only reads things that have been written by professional writers and published. I laughed. I have a somewhat different perspective on blog writing. That's just the way we are.  

Can you love when you don't like?

I received the following comment on my last post: "I have no idea what the participle "loved" means in this context."  

Good question. Here's my answer:

It's love, rather than loved. I feel love for my Dad currently. He's dead, but I'm not. I put myself first. 

What is love in this context? A deep caring? An ancestral connection?  An ineffable feeling that can't be fully erased? I don't know.  

Before I forgave him I was angry, burning in Hell kind of angry. Consequently, his actions continued to hurt me. I was a victim. That made me more angry. There came a time when I understood that in order stop being a victim, I had to let go of my anger and leave him behind. It seemed like the best thing I could do for myself.  

Forgiveness doesn't mean I think he's a great guy. It doesn't mean I accept his brutality as a good thing. Forgiveness means I stepped away and left his meanness with him. Sometimes forgiveness is the meanest sucker punch of all. You know, "yeah I have some bruises, but you should see the other guy."

It wasn't being hit that messed me up. The real damage was the feeling that I was unimportant, unloved, and somehow at fault or deserving of such treatment. In fact, his actions were never about me. I was an innocent kid in the wrong place at the wrong time.  

Once I detached, I could see that he was a sad, pathetic person. I left him and his problems behind me. I no longer expected to have a good father. There was only ever going to be him. He had his own story, and his own father. 

It's not a happy, feel good kind of love I feel for him. I'm sad for him, but that's not it. I know his story, his own tortured childhood. I know his father once beat him so badly his mother didn't know if he'd live through the night. No hospital, no calling the police, just the resigned maternal vigil.  

Having said all this, I do believe there are some "sins of the father" that are unforgivable. Thankfully, he was no worse than mean and brutal.  

I don't like him, but that's not an absence of love.  

Down, but not out.

 I'm having a hard time writing blog posts. It's more inability than reluctance. 

I like to write first thing in the morning. However, I also try to exercise (biking, walking) in the morning as well. In the heat of the summer it is imperative to get out there very early, so my early morning creative routine is kind of shot until the Florida heat and humidity subsides.  

I will admit to being "a little" shell shocked of late. It's hard for me to focus. I should relax, ignore the political noise and re-center my self in this beautiful, yes beautiful, world.

Still, that hateful Trump and his evil cohorts try to distract us from beauty and goodness every damn day.  The unrealized poet in me is convinced he is the Devil, the anti-Christ. I am gobsmacked that people who think they are good Christians follow someone like him. In my fevered dreams they follow him straight to Hell.  

My Tennessee Grandmother was my own personal Pentecostal saint. She was known to talk in tongues when the spirit moved her. My Grandma was the personification of goodness, and she worked hard at understanding the difference between good and evil. She would never have voted for Trump. Like Kamala Harris, she knew a predator when she saw one.

Grandma taught me to say "Get behind me, Satan" when I was overwhelmed with worry or distraction. I haven't said that phrase in a long, long time. But I'm saying it today.

I strive for balance

I find myself thinking of my grandmother. She was kind, good, and loving. I want, so much, to be the kind of grandmother to my grandkids (and great-grands) that she was to me. But I have a mean streak. I think it comes from her husband, or maybe her son. They were both troubled souls. I don't want to be like them.  

So I try harder to be good, saving the meanness for those who deserve it. Who knows, perhaps fighting back is a gift? Am I diminished or enhanced by trying to control this darkness? Anger has proven both useful and righteous from time to time.

I know I cannot swallow my anger whole or I would lose my mind. It is important for me to digest it bit by bit. I sing to it until it falls asleep. Then I try to put it to bed without waking it up.

The anger of Cúchulainn

Now THIS is angry:

When Cuchulain went into battle, he would go into a frenzy. His cry alone would kill a hundred warriors from fright. His physical appearance—namely, that of a handsome man—changed completely. Cuchulain's hair stood on end, one of his eyes bulged out while the other disappeared in his head, his legs and feet turned to face backward, his muscles swelled, and a column of blood spurted up from his head. His body became so hot that it could melt snow.
http://www.mythencyclopedia.com/Cr-Dr/Cuchulain.html

The Táin. Cúchulainn in warp-spasm is a 1969 work by Louis le Brocquy. It is not currently on display in IMMA. It is part of the IMMA Permanent Collection.

An unpleasant encounter

Sunday was Mother's Day. We rode our bikes to a park to see how many alligators we could count. We rarely see mature alligators in this spot, but there are usually some baby alligators sunning themselves at the foot of water plants at the end of the lake. 

At one point I walked around a young father and his little boy. I realized with horror the father was teaching his young son to throw rocks at the baby alligators. 

I said "Please don't throw rocks at the alligators." Honest to God, I said it calmly. He told me to mind my own business. I replied "This IS my business, you are hurting animals." He instructed me to keep walking. By then my husband was at my side, trying to explain to the man that this was not lawful, and there is a fine for this action. The man again told us both to keep walking and mind our own business. 

I'm sorry, but when I become angry, I lose my mind. I am emotionally unable to walk away from a fight. I've always been this way. I can't help it. Grown ass morons brutalizing children or animals is a huge trigger for me. I'm not bragging, folks. Sometimes my reactions scare me.

So this unpleasant encounter escalated into a war of words, screaming even, as we walked away. I feel guilty about the little boy.

Right and wrong.  So easy to say, so hard to figure out.

Busy, busy, busy

What a week, right?  We live in exciting times, and I experienced all the highs and lows the unexpected excitement all this profound political frenzy generated.

Pete Buttigieg and Amy Klobuchar dropped out just before Super Tuesday. Elizabeth Warren dropped out a few days later. These were my top three candidates.

When Pete dropped out, I threw a big stinkin' fit. I'm not bragging, I'm just not going to lie.  This is what I posted:



Then Amy dropped out. Sheesh.

I appreciate the self-sacrifice of these two candidates. I am in awe of the swift strategic brilliance of it all. Who knew the Democrats could still pull together and show unity/strength? Anyway, I still had Elizabeth! She was probably the best candidate anyway, right? And I'm sorry, but I really, really, really want women (plural) to be in power. So I posted this:


I got a lot of sh** with that one from angry, threatened men, and women who do not want to appear threatening. They took their best shots. I took it on the chin. I got way more support and sympathy than criticism. 

Then Elizabeth Warren dropped out. I have no illusions about sexism, or misogyny in American politics. I've been a feminist since 1968. My heart no longer breaks. It pounds, hard and loud. Occasionally it spurts blood. Politics are messy. Some battles may never be won, but they still must be fought. 

I'm feeling pretty good today. I can step back and let the two remaining candidates try to convince me. It's almost a relief not having to care so much anymore. 

I'll vote for one of The Men in November.  I won't be excited for either, but I'll vote. If the winner doesn't choose a woman VP, I will feel betrayed and angry, but I won't be surprised.

My passion now will be doing what I can to ensure that the Democrats take over the majority in the Senate. If you can't do one thing, then look around for something else you CAN do. 

Evil is as evil does

I read a post on Facebook yesterday that gave me pause. It began: "Today Democracy Died!" I was moved by the strong emotion; however, I don't agree.

We are all disgusted by that sham of a trial in the Senate. We ask ourselves, "How can there be a trial if witnesses are not called, and evidence not presented?" Well, the answer is simple, there can't be. That was not a trial.

When the Senate votes to acquit down party lines, it will  be a vote of shame. History will record it as such. Donald Trump will not be exonerated simply because he was not removed by the Senate. The House impeached him, and that impeachment stands forever. He can never escape that great truth. He was impeached.

We knew the Senate would do this, and that Trump would not be removed from office as a result. This is awful, but not a surprise. The thing we must do is persevere, organize, register voters, and vote to remove him in November.

Call me a political literalist, but Democracy is not something that can die. It is an idea, a political construct, a governmental norm for many enlightened nations. I take comfort in history. Yes, evil exists, but it never triumphs in the end. It only rises to the top when we allow it.

Let's vote for a Democratic nominee who can actually beat him, and who has the ability to bring this country together. Enough with the division and hate that evil thrives upon.

Vulcans and Klingons

I've said this before, and I guess I'm gonna have to say it again. My side of the family are like Klingons. This my husband and I agree on, with great pleasure and deep appreciation. I know without a doubt that should you mess with one of my siblings, they will rip your heart out with their (sharpened) teeth. My sibs think of me as the soft one, the weak one. This I know, too. Perhaps I am. Maybe not. What if I am just the quiet one? These things are all relative, you know.

My husband's family are like Vulcans. They are quiet and measured. Logic rules over the heart. If you mess with them, you might think you won; however, you will never know the jokes and disdain that will follow you for the rest of your life.

Here is the basic difference between our families. Klingons want you to know you've been destroyed. That's the be all and the end all. In T's family, the villain's awareness of their own destruction doesn't matter. Vulcans are not threatened by the continued existence of their vanquished and diminished enemies. What the miscreant thinks isn't important, and his/her awareness is inconsequential. It is an interesting difference, don't you think? 

We have tempered and changed each other over the years. I no longer walk up to strangers and tell them I like their hair. I rarely jump up from my airline seat to scream at the person behind me for kicking my seat. He has learned to apologize and works hard on the empathy thing. This is the truth: together we are better than we are apart. 

I still can't walk away from a fight, but I am now self-aware enough to wish I could.

Some people make me sick

I'm currently sick of interacting with people and need a break from reality. 

I am not a misanthrope, au contraire!  I like people very much. I am a social being, and I care deeply about society. I am able to forgive, and I trust easily. I admit my mistakes and apologize when I lose my temper. When younger, I had an endless capacity for love.  Or perhaps it was simply an endless capacity for the bullshit of others.  I dunno.  Hard to differentiate.

At any rate, I am cranky and snippy. I have just alienated a person with my bad temper and I feel bad about it.  However, she still makes me sick. 

I hate when I do this.


"Speak when you are angry and you will make the best speech you will ever regret.”
― Ambrose Bierce

Say no to snark

I have noticed a preponderance of snark on social media since the election. Perhaps you have, too? Snark is defined by my computer's dictionary as "snide and sharply critical comments." You know what I'm talking about. It is the online equivalent of giving someone the finger...

Personally, I hate snark. It makes my skin crawl when I hear it, and it makes me want to punch someone out when they use it against me. It seems people use snarky comebacks because they think it makes them appear strong and smart. It doesn't. It makes them appear rude and childish. When you use your vast intelligence to come up with a pithy reply designed to destroy your opponent, then you have wasted your words. But most importantly, you've done no good.

The best way to convince someone to change their mind is to listen to them (as respectfully as you are able to pull off...) and THEN start engaging in discussion, strategically. The best way to shut someone down and push them away is to throw snark at them. Because who is going to want to listen to you if you have accused them of being less than human? 

How do I know this? Because I was once trained in the art of persuasion by an international representative of a large and famous labor union. She could convince anybody of anything.  It was a gift that some people have. If you don't believe me, then follow a successful salesperson around for a day. Salespeople take a lot of abuse and disrespect everyday, but they keep trying to find a way to connect - to make that sale. 

Okay, okay, we all have certain friends or relatives we absolutely cannot listen to or argue with. And social media has brought out the troll in way too many angry, lonely, and desperate souls. Unless you have an advanced degree in psychology, just step away from those folks. Detach. Don't waste your time. Don't surrender to the snark side. It's a slippery damn slope that will deliver you to straight to cynicism. And, well, that's kinda like burning in hell.

I want the world to change for the better. I want to win. The only way to do that is to get strategic. We can do this without sacrificing our humanity.

Don't just react. Take the time to think. 

Respecting anger

Oh, I don't know. I guess I am just getting old.  I used to be a hell raiser, a loud mouthed dame ready to take on the world. I'm still ready to take on the world, but I have less energy. These days I am trying to cultivate a different approach.

I have mentioned before that I am hot-tempered. Anyone who knows me will concur. I have a decent sense of humor and I try to be affable.  However, I also have a very short fuse. Once sparked, I am off and running. That is the way of it for me. I am not bragging, I'm complaining.

People (in my real life AND on blogs) are often talking about anger right now. It is interesting how connected we are by reality. Truthfully, it is hard not to be angry in April 2017.

Let me explain the way I feel about this current reality in mytho-poetic terms: The world has run amok. Trolls and ogres have found a crack in our shields. They claw their way into this dimension driven by the demons they serve. A battle for sovereignty is being waged... Thanks for indulging me, I hope it was as fun for you as it was for me.

In these times of bad manners, political strife, and acrimony I feel like I am overusing anger. More to the point, I can't help but notice when I lose my temper, I lose the fight.

I'm trying to chill and use my words instead of my temper. Because I like to win.

Bad ass baby alligators

Protecting Ourselves From Creeps

I think the majority of men are decent people; no need to school me on that. There are plenty of good men who are friends, lovers, and family members. However, there are also predators out there who consider women fair game. I am not talking about rape; that is a whole different ball of wax. I'm talking about casual sexual harassment. You know, like when you encounter a creep who makes you want to leave a party early...not with him, with a bodyguard and a container of Purell.

Trump's vulgar and offensive treatment of women reminds me how ill-equipped some of us are to handle unexpected, unwanted advances. All too often it catches us off guard when we encounter a creep. We do not expect it and we just want to pretend it isn't happening. We might be afraid or really, really embarrassed. We may not fully understand why we freeze up. We just want to get away without getting manhandled or hurt. For whatever reason, we often let such "bad manners" pass. Then we go on with our lives, a bit diminished, dehumanized, and worse for wear. 

When I was a young woman, in the late 1960's and early 1970's, there was a burgeoning feminist movement. We attended assertiveness training events to learn how to speak our minds. In my early days as an office worker at Cornell University, there were actually assertiveness training workshops offered to women at work! I learned so much from attending those workshops. This may sound odd to younger women.

You have to understand how it was in the bad old days. Girls were raised to be nice, kind, and obedient. We were taught good girls put the needs of others before their own (even though that put us at risk of being abused or taken advantage of). Furthermore, a lady was always polite and did not yell or call attention to herself. I think you can understand how desperately we needed remedial training to learn how to protect ourselves from creeps!

Like so many other women, I never wanted to be aggressive. Let's face it, aggression IS creepy. Although feminism made me want to be strong, resourceful, credible and respected, I absolutely did not want to become like the creeps. I'm still down with that! (I always hoped feminism would influence men to become more like women.) That is why "assertiveness" was such a welcome concept to many of us. Becoming assertive allowed us to be strong without subscribing to a primitive definition of strength we did not admire.

When I became a manager I received additional training to help thwart sexual harassment in the workplace. A key dynamic is that a woman needs to be crystal damn clear she is not interested. Any meekness, hedging or hawing, or embarrassment will NOT be interpreted as a well mannered rejection by a creep. It will be interpreted as consent or (believe it or not) interest. Apparently creeps think differently than the rest of us.

The next time I see my granddaughter I am going to tell her the most important word in the English language is NO. She needs to get comfortable saying it, along with other things like "Please stop, this is making me uncomfortable," or "I'm not interested," or eventually "Seriously, do I have to call the police?"

I will also tell her not to pay attention to any of the unkind things a creep might yell at her as she walks away. He's a creep, remember? He will not mean it personally, because he won't even think of her as a person. That is why she will be walking away.

WHAT did he just say?

Mad as Hell

I hate to admit it. I really do. But maybe a confession is in order. Although I most definitely voted for Barak Obama twice in the past 8 years, I am ashamed to admit the first time I voted for him I did not like him. Why?

I have been a feminist since the late 1960's and I have been waiting patiently for a smart and politically savvy woman to have a clear shot at becoming president. I was pumped up and flying high when Hillary Clinton stepped forward to run. She was my senator when I lived in NY State; in my book she was a fabulous senator. I knew she was the one. "We" finally had a chance. I was angry when this bright young man stepped in. I knew he was smart, I knew he was principled, I knew we were going to be in good hands with him in charge. I was psyched and heartened to know we were finally going to have a president who was also a person of color. I loved the youthful and progressive energy that surrounded his campaign. But I was still seething with anger because MY candidate didn't win. As if it as all about ME. Sheesh, sometimes I just can't stand myself. 

I was so freakin' angry that I actually refused to watch his speeches for YEARS. Yep, I'm a big baby. I couldn't even say his name with out spitting the words out, kind of like Jerry Seinfeld's reaction to Newman. My husband, a stalwart Obama supporter from the get-go, wondered if I had lost my mind. It took me 3 years to warm up to him. Obama, that is. Well, maybe my husband, too. Three wasted years of stubborn anger and miserable bitterness. Three years when Barak Obama had already hit the ground running and was working hard to pull us out of a recession he did not cause.

Now, I see him as a great president. Not only do I like him, I admire him. Okay, I kinda love him. I have to admit that, perhaps... he was the right person at that point in time to become president. In fact, I wish I could vote for him again, because I would.

I am not proud of my emotional reaction to the 2008 presidential race. That is exactly what it was, by the way, an emotional reaction.  I AM proud that I did and still care strongly about feminism as an issue. The thing is, one can't just care about only one or two issues. Then we stagnate, which only diminishes our cause and makes the world smaller and meaner. We have to see the bigger picture. 

I  hope you all watched President Obama speak last night at the DNC. It was one of the most powerful speeches I have ever seen.

Orlando

The massacre at The Pulse nightclub last night took place at a venue about 25 minutes away from where I live.  Am I horrified by how close terrorism has come to my home, my turf, my family?  Yes, I am horrified.  

I am also filled with grief for the beautiful young lives that were lost.  The sorrow I feel for the loss of great potential, and for the pain their loved ones feel this morning is beyond words.  

Am I afraid?  No, I am not afraid.  I am angry. 

Cypress trees on Lake Eola, Downtown Orlando

Part II: Supervising a difficult person

As I said in Part I, I don't think you can change other people unless they want to be changed. In Part I, I made that statement as a co-worker; now in Part II, I am speaking as an ex-supervisor. I confess. I am a recovering supervisor. Ick.

Supervising a difficult and problematic employee is a little different than working alongside one. No better or worse, just a little different.

Handling performance issues and promoting group harmony is a big part of a supervisor's job. People who only want to be a supervisor for the prestige, power, or the extra money should think again. Supervising is a job you cannot do well if you are conflict averse, a people pleaser, give a shit if someone hates you, or (especially) if you don't want to work hard at unpleasant tasks.

It helps if you care strongly about people, policies, and organizations. A blogger named The Cranky commented on Part I of this 2-part post, telling a great story about how, as a supervisor, she eventually had an impact on a young employee and made a real difference in that person's life. It is a good example of the difference between working with someone you have no control over versus supervising someone. As supervisor you cannot just step away and avoid the person. You are supposed to try and change them...

The thing is, there are plenty of people who may not be particularly like-able or sociable, but they mind their own business and do a good job. Some of my favorite employees had difficult or prickly personalities. However, working with a difficult person who also has performance issues makes everyone's work-life a long, slow, super-annoying nightmare.

Contrary to popular opinion, in a large, progressive organization you can only fire someone on the spot if they do something sufficiently egregious, like being seriously insubordinate, or threatening another co-worker with bodily harm.

Firing someone who does substandard work, or falls sleeps at their desk every damn day, or consistently disrespects customers and/or other employees requires a long, excruciating process Human Resources likes to refer to as a "progressive disciplinary action." Let's call that a PDA, even though it is nothing like "public displays of affection." It involves months of mentoring, monitoring, documenting, and agonizing. You may not realize this but supervisors hate implementing progressive discipline as much as employees hate receiving it. True story.

The ex-union organizer in me strongly approves of a PDA. It's a pain in the you-know-what and it seems like sheer torture for everyone involved, but there is a point to it. Everyone deserves a second chance. Everyone should have the time and opportunity to turn their performance issues around so they can avoid getting sacked.

Because supervisors have more power in the workplace, they SHOULD be required to prove an employee deserves to be fired. Otherwise we would definitely fire people who don't laugh at our jokes, or who wear too much perfume. You know who you are.

In doing performance evaluations for employees over a period of about ten million years, I discovered you can be stunningly straightforward and honest with most people if you are respectful. Sounds New Agey, I know. It often worked if I could muster up the emotional intelligence to pull it off. Now there's a big, fat IF.

Unfortunately, I am also an imperfect employee AND a hothead, so I wasn't always successful at getting people to change. However, it was satisfying when I could, and a supervisor can promote positive change more often than you might think. I am not kidding when I say there is nothing better than helping someone achieve their goals. Most people want to do a good job. If you are clear about expectations, people usually respond accordingly. Still, there is always at least one employee with performance "issues." If that employee also happens to be a difficult person, things can get complicated.

I always felt like a failure if a problem employee didn't improve their performance or change their attitude. I am still not sure if this is true or fair, but I always had the notion that I could make a difference if I could just do or say the right thing.

The right thing? As a co-worker I think doing the right thing really IS to accept there are some things I cannot change, avoid difficult people like the plague, and get on with my life. As a supervisor I had fewer choices.

When someone is doing a bad job or driving everyone out the door with their negative and/or condescending attitude, it is the supervisor's job to pull that employee into their office and find an effective way to tell the employee to cut it out. More often than not a difficult person doesn't think they are doing anything wrong. Sigh. AND, if your best efforts have no discernible effect you can be quite sure the other employees are bitching about you behind your back for not addressing the problem. Like the cheese from the Farmer in the Dell, the supervisor stands alone.

And then you can start a progressive disciplinary action.

And oh yeah, sometimes it is your supervisor who is the difficult person and a monumental slack ass. Good luck with that one.

I am happy to be retired and done with all that.

Part I: Working with a difficult person

As the saying goes, "One bad apple spoils the bunch."

A fellow blogger published a thoughtful post about the negative effect one difficult co-worker can have on a group. More to the point, she also talked about compassion. I was inspired to write.  Here is a link you to her post. P.S., she is a much better person than me.

It is nearly impossible to develop a mutually supportive team when there is one co-worker thinking only about themselves. We've all been there. You know the type. Certain people make me want to throw up when they walk into a room. My stomach tightens, my thoughts constrict, and my posture instantly shifts into fighting stance. What we sometimes lose sight of is that those people behave badly because they are unhappy. Unless, of course, they are psychopaths, but that is another post...

I think back on my experiences in the workplace and I don't believe we can affect change in another person unless they want to be changed. So, maybe the kindest way to deal with a difficult co-worker is to detach?  Easier said than done, but a worthy goal.

Maybe you don't want to be kind to a difficult co-worker? I understand. Some people are really begging for a slapdown. Still, a negative reaction to a negative action IS a double negative. That can't be good, and although everyone else in the office would cheer you on if you want to kick the difficult co-worker's ass, Human Resources won't. Can't.  And then your supervisor will have to haul you into her office to give you hell even though she was secretly cheering you on, too.

It seems like we do ourselves AND that difficult co-worker no favor if we allow them to drag us down into that miserable snake pit for troubled souls. Been there, done that. If we allow other people to change us for the worse then we are complicit in their bad behavior.

So maybe my sweet Momma was right when she said it was usually best to walk away from a fight?  Why am I only listening to her advice now, when I am 64 years old and she has been dead for a year and a day? I wish I knew.

For what it is worth, I say let the negativity stay with the difficult co-worker. Detach, with compassion if you possibly can. There is always a reason someone is "difficult." Hey, it might make you smarter trying to figure it out. But the next time s/he complains about how much she hates her job, her boss, or the company she works for, be a pal and encourage her to find a different job. Then everyone wins.

Next:  Part II, Supervising a difficult co-worker

When smoke gets in your eyes

It is always interesting when the same topic pops up all over the place and becomes a pattern or a theme. Anger has been discussed and/or displayed on a number of different, unrelated blogs lately, and people are going nuts with angry rants on social media.

Perhaps it's happening because it is February and cabin fever is getting to people? Or maybe because politics are so disrespectfully infuriating and in-our-face right now? Who knows? I don't. I only know anger is out there in full force and it gives me pause.

This post is going to be about anger but I want to be clear. I am not writing about your anger, that's your business. I am writing about my own. 

I'm a bit of a hot head. I have a short fuse.  However, I try to tread lightly around anger because I like it too much. I am not referring to bad temper, annoyance, or crankiness. Those things are interesting as well, but are not really "anger" in my book. I am thinking specifically about the kind of anger that is a reaction against an injustice. You know, the kind of anger that turns red hot and makes smoke come out of your ears?

Anger is complex. It can also be comforting and seductively familiar. I could easily get stuck in an angry loop. I totally get that. However, being rip-snorting mad always makes me feel like crap once I come back down to earth. I wish I could learn to manage my emotions better so my anger could work for me instead of against me.

Please note I said "manage" and not "eliminate." Anger definitely has its place. I think of it like the good china, or the good scotch. You only bring it out when the situation warrants and absolutely nothing else will do.

Anger seems like the opposite of good, but it isn’t. Anger is an appropriate reaction to injustice. I mean, how is the universe going to hear us unless we yell really, really loud? Still, I don't want strong emotions to own me.

Quilt: Unresolved Emotional Themes