My Anger Fuel

Updated: Sep 28, 2020

For the past 72 hours I’ve been living with an intensity that flushed my cheeks and honed my attention like a well sharpened pencil. It feels like I have blown out my carburetor, cleared out all the gunk that’s been hanging around my walls. I’m not done yet. I can still feel the burn.

I lived years on the edge of life and death with my youngest daughter not knowing what’s next but something monumental. Sometimes I feel like I’m wandering through a fun house with deformed images looming in and out. Other times I hit a dead end with no possible solution in sight. I never want to go back there. It’s an intolerable place to live and yet I survived.

This week, my living daughter had a breast cancer scare and I found myself back in the funhouse. The dark looming images resuming their presence in the heat of crisis. It’s all so familiar. I am deeply grateful to say she’s fine. She’s cleared – no cancer.

As a parent and post-caregiver, I have medical PTSD. I have been recovering for five years since my daughter’s transition, and yet PTSD reared its ugly head again. I’ve made progress though. Usually I cry for days and feel helpless and listless about life. I’ve graduated to anger.

The idea of my living daughter suffering with cancer sent me into a controlled panic. I’ve learned to live with panic. It’s not easy and wears on my insides. With over 160 days of meditation practice, I am grateful for my breath and use it mindfully to manage my control. Images of this meditation community hold space in my silence and is again my anchor.

My old solution was to be busy with distractions to blur my experience and numb my fear. I would berate and bully myself into believing I was less than. The practice of silence is strong against the backdrop of panic. I hear my screaming and feel the shaking of fear and I practice silence because I trust in its presence.

I breathe. My mind tells me it’s impossible to find comfort in this space, but still I remain in silence and lean on practice. I grow more trust as I sit in silence.

My inner child is paying attention. My inner reservoir continues to refill. I continue to heal. Every time I demonstrate my practice, my trust bank increases. I am paying attention to my intention to be here. If I engage with panic and fear, I don’t deserve punishment. I’m doing the best I can. I am one step closer to saying enough! I choose another way. There is always another opportunity down the road to practice again.

When anger is ignored, it’s a fuel that burns uncontrolled. When anger is unacknowledged, it turns inward into self-loathing, depression, anxiety, self-sabotage and much more.

Writing my feelings always helps me let off some rage. Being creative helps me use my anger fuel. Talking to a therapist or counselor helps me lessen my anger mountain. I am standing on the side of self-care instead of self-harm. I am grateful.

Mother Mountain by Shirley Riga

My strength I carry in my tall

thick walls of stone.

I weather the hottest heat and the chilliest cold.

I stand as witness to the lives of people,

animals, energies that pass by me,

Over me and on me.

I reach high to heaven and am made

up of the very essence of Mother Earth.

I am majestically beautiful and

starkly abundant in my stature.