I have started swearing. A lot. I mean, I always swore a little, but now I am unleashed. I am busting out bad words alone in my car, behind my bedroom door, and on my walks in the woods. If you see me talking to myself or hear me through an open window – just wave and smile and keep going.
I am trying on a little anger and it feels good.
Here is the history – I never swore around my kids when they were little. I could let a few roll when I was talking to a friend but that was about it. I have never been an angry person and I have notoriously gone out of my way to make other people feel comfortable. I am assertive, I can speak up, but I have mostly viewed anger as toxic.
When my husband died I was so keenly aware of the love and the grace that swirled through us and around us that gratitude was the partner to my sorrow. Even in my worst moments, I am talking – on the floor moments – there was a voice saying it could be worse, look how blessed you are. Grief reflects the connection. In the sadness there was a bounty of love. There was no place for anger.
Gutted by death and grief I was the truest version of myself. And at the core I like to think we are all love. That it how it felt. I have seen it with others – this deep shine, this palpable grace in the midst of the worst. I cannot explain it. It can carry you.
Other people around me were angry. Some wanted me to be angry. They pushed it toward me: Of course you are angry , how can you not be, you were robbed, why him – it’s so unfair…. I did not feel it: Who would I be angry at, anger takes too much energy, I am so lucky he was ever mine, why NOT us – we aren’t special… The richness of my life and love with him was stronger than the bleakness of the loss and so I gave thanks.
But now I am dancing with anger. And much to my surprise – no one is getting hurt.
We all know about the mind body connection, but a few nagging aches and pains led me to take a closer look at this theory and how it might pertain to me. Repressed anger? Me? Causing pain? Something rang true and I started shelving the second part of all my sentences, the part where I say – it’s okay. Because it isn’t. And some things about my life are really hard. At first it was difficult to muster up a good streak of foot stomping and cussing. I still did not feel it. It felt like acting. (I am sure you will be glad to hear that I am getting better at it – and matching it with feeling).
Guess what? I have not imploded and no one is getting hurt. And the love is not diminished.
Now I wonder if because one of my greatest fears came true when I lost my husband, somehow I believed that I had to constantly count my blessings so I would not lose more. Maybe I have been trying hard to be good and play nice so I will not get kicked in the gut again. But it does not work that way. Not everything will spin out of control if I loosen my grip a bit.
I will not get stuck in the anger. The gratitude will always resurface because the truth is I am lucky he was mine.
I wonder how it is for you?
Thank you for reading, sharing, and following.