Day 12: Anger
I’m realizing there are things I want to write, but don’t — most notably, anger.
I know how to deal with emotions like frustration and sadness, but I don’t know how to deal with anger. I was taught as a kid that anger is a bad emotion — an emotion that hurts people and causes you to be irrattional. And because of that, I always think past my anger to the rational side of things. I find the root of the problem, like I’ve always been taught to do, and I explore that problem.
Except the problem with this is that anger is that, even if you deal with it rationally, there is a part of me that wants to be irrational — that wants to yell and scream and curse. And of course, for me, that would be in writing.
But I don’t write angry.
Anger is like hot lava that builds up inside a volcano, but writing about tangentially related things seems to coax the lava to stay dormant. Of course, that lava still exists, but it is less scintillating.
I know the process of how I get angry. First, it starts with dissatisfaction — with something that isn’t quite right. And then it turns into frustration, which irks me — but still isnt’ anger. But when it seems like little pellets of frustratinon slam into my head without mercy, I get angry. I get angry with the world and with the my circumstance and with God and the universe and, most poignantly, myself. I know how I would write if I would do it while angry, because I’ve thought a lot about what that would look like. But I don’t do it, because I don’t think I would like the way it looks.
It’s an emotion that makes me shameful, and that makes it hard to talk about. It’s an emotion that illustrates that you’re out of control, and I hate losing control.
I remember during a baseball game during my freshman year of high school, I was pitching — and the opposing team started calling me racist names, because I was the only Asian in sight. And I got angry. I screamed and curse — but then I burst out crying, because that anger was based in a deep-seated sensitivity inside me. There was nothing wrong with that sensitivity, but it took that shameful incident for me to be able to articulate it.
When I close my eyes, I can dissapate the anger, almost on command. I can control and deal with the anger, because I was taught how to do this by my parents. I was always calm and composed growing up. But somehow I construed this to mean that I should never be angry — especially without a reason. And it clashes with all the times I feel angry, but am unable to articulate it.
I’m going to try to write about anger from here on out, because I think it’s productive. I think it will help me to give specifics to these blanket emotions I have. It may end up being that I write things like, “I’m angry and I don’t know why. I’m angry, and I hate everything right now.” But maybe six graphs down, I’ll actually get myself to a point where I can productively relieve the volcano.
I’m realizing, at Day 12, that I’m taking less care with what I write. I’m taking less time out of the day to put something on the internet that few people will read. I’m going to re-think what I do from here on out.