Rage Rising: Anger is Scary

Grr! Anger management is not fun. I manage my anger and it manages to manage me.

Frosting helps in anger management.

I’ve already messed up. From this post where I wrote that I’d blog every week! That was months ago!

Anger. These days, it covers everything from road rage to temper tantrums. Newspapers are full of examples. Personally,  I am angry at myself for messing up and not doing what I said I’d do.

I’m procrastinating writing this blog because I don’t want to go back there. And procrastinating only makes me fearful that I won’t get it done and then angry that I don’t get it done.

Plus, I don’t want to go back to the origin of the anger mess. I might open up something I can’t get out of. What if I get stuck in that icky place again? I can already feel the surge of fear, the rage rising.

We see movies like The Hulk (I”d be mad too, if I’d turned myself green! Worse than a bad hair day!), or Anger Management, (so many times situations were misunderstood because of the plot, but they turned into painful moments).

Yesterday afternoon. I skimmed my home library for the right books–information on anger, or with anger related references like anger management, aggression, violence.

For those of you that don’t know, I am writing a nonfiction book about my walk through the dark tunnel of anger and recovery. I’m not sure what I had in mind when I first thought of doing this. I felt it would be a tie-in with my fiction, The Great Escapee Series. Seemed like a good idea–a correlation between the main character, Clarence and his anger, and me and my anger.

But then I started digging through my old journals of that time period. And yesterday, I read all afternoon, yes, but it was about aggression, fear, violence and hatred.

Also, I want this book to be meaningful and hopeful. But, as usual, I had no idea how deep I’d have to go and where God wanted to take me. If you journal, you’ll know that where God and those words scattered on the page often take you can be someplace awful. We need to get rid of our junk. But not today. Or tomorrow.

The main book I read yesterday was The Gift of Fear and Other Survival Signals That Protect Us From Violence by Gavin De Becker. I just looked up the parts on anger from the index. I’m going to read the whole book. But it’s not what I thought it would be. It’s as scary as a horror story.

Still, I don’t know how to do this … this blog thing about anger. It needs to be honest. I want it to be meaningful–to change someone’s life. I want it to change my life.

But I sense myself hovering over the introduction–writing several posts as the intro–procrastinating getting into the gritty stuff. I’ll just write the first half of the book about other people and maybe, maybe I’ll get to my stuff.

No.

Next week, I open the first phase–when my daughter got sick.

 

 

Rage Rising: How Do I Tell This?

Post-it Heaven

You all have stories you could tell.

Your spouse gets laid off. A child becomes very sick. Someone has to have surgery. A hurricane hits hard.

If you sat down to start the process of journaling or writing your story, where would you start?

I know. Overwhelming.

Most life stories span years. Mine do.

I asked God, “How do I tell this?”

His words, “Start at the beginning. Tell your story.”

Ugh. From the beginning to now, covers ten or more journals, full of daily rantings and puke-it-out-entries. Pages and pages. And pages.

I gathered them all–tricky since we just moved and stashed anything we didn’t immediately need in a storage building. Boxes and boxes of … yeah. Of stuff we don’t need. (That’s another chapter! Or another book!)

I began to go back and figure out what years I needed and gathered them in, along with a stack of post-its. If you have ever journaled and gone back to read those scribblings, you know that sometimes your “I’m gonna get this done today” voice is slowed or stopped altogether. You land on an entry that is so profound … or painful that you read it over and over, the memory washing over you.

One such entry is from January 2001 about a dream I had. Without telling you the whole thing, at the end of the dream I was caught up in grief so deep that I was sobbing, apparently for my daughter. When I woke, I could still hear the sobs. I asked the Lord what it meant. He said, “She won’t die, but she has to go through it and learn to move on.” I had written the Bible verse, “I can do all things through Christ Who strengthens me.” Phil. 4:13.

Easy to say then. Before.

In September 2002, a year and a half later, my daughter, Jenn, got very sick.

Prophetic? Maybe.

I hadn’t read that entry from back then. Sometimes I go back and read a journal but I hadn’t gone back to this one.

Until now.