The Shadows Behind the Anger

I have always been a person who wears her heart on her sleeve, as they say. However, anytime I was confronted with accountability, anger took over. I wasn’t actually aware at the time, that it was accountability I was resisting. Every question or confrontation felt like an attack. It felt like a compounding of the pain that already existed. I was a participant in my own trauma, by not acknowledging my own shadows. Every thought and trigger, added to the box that contained my pain. I was ashamed of that box. I tried to decorate it in affirmations and frantic creative energy. Project after project, child after child… I tried to force life to change. But nothing ever changed, inside anyway. I dreamt of not waking up more than I dreamt of a life I wanted. I was becoming, not only more of what I didn’t want, but an infection as well. It was starting to bleed into my children and my husband. My friends and I only talked of what we hated and the things we didn’t want. We raged in groups and cried on camera, aching to feel just a little less lost.

Then one day (Yes, I’m aware of how cliche that sounds, but it can happen that way.) I was standing in my kitchen, and it finally clicked. I can choose to be happy. And if I can choose to be happy, what else can I choose. Which led to this little journal entry that felt more like a channeled message.

So, here is ‘A bit of Bea’ and a glimpse into my healing journey.

Your anger tells me much more than your words ever could. I see your ache, pulsating behind it. Thrashing and writhing, begging to come out. But you shove it in a box, lock it up tight, while you scream at the world demanding change. For yourself, for others, for life to be fair. All while the chains rattle, and the box expands. Your body starts to reflect what’s buried, sprouting illness and pain as a warning. Trying to tell you, “STOP SCREAMING AND LISTEN.” Still, you rage and scream. You’re dying to live, without allowing life. You’re fighting yourself, to spite your pain. When is enough, enough? When does the story that was, stop being the story that is? What would be the worst thing that could happen, if you let it go? That it would stop hurting? Why is that so scary? Why does the pain, get to be louder than your own voice? Is the apology that will never be enough, worth the ache of your anger? When will you allow yourself, to be worthy of your love? Your answers, the ones you keep searching for, are sitting in the shadows that are writhing in that box. Don’t fear them, acknowledge them, confront them, feel them, release them. Peace is not the enemy. Happiness is not a gimmick. Love is not a lie. You may not have been able to trust many, but you can trust yourself.

I have always been someone who is highly aware of my mental health. Honestly, I didn’t really feel like I had much of a choice, it felt like no one else seemed to care. As a child, I knew what I felt, and why I felt it. What I couldn’t figure out then, was the what behind the emotion. What does it mean? The negative emotions, which were frequent and consistent, never felt right. They didn’t feel like they fit me, and I couldn’t figure out why that was. And it wasn’t just my emotions. Trauma gifted me with the ability to embody the energy around me.

There was a funeral I went to as a teen. The woman was someone I had loved deeply. She was one of the beautiful examples of a grandmother I was fortunate enough to know. When she passed, she had reached her late 80’s. So, while it wrapped my heart in grief, it felt earned. The day of her funeral, I show up and stood in the mix of the large crowd, tears in each of our eyes. We shared our grief willingly, as we silently said our goodbyes. But as they got ready to lower her into the ground, I felt an intense tightness in my chest, seconds before her husband threw himself atop her casket. I felt it. A sob, a mix of his grief and my shock escaped my lips before I could stop it. My shoulders shaking as quiet sobs, echoing his deafening ones, wrack my body as tears streamed down my face. Every person within arm’s reach turned to glare at me, as if I had stolen something from that moment.

That’s always been me, the one who feels too much, too deeply. But when it came to my own emotions, they confused me for the simple fact, that I didn’t understand the point of them. Of course, at the time, I got trapped in them. I grabbed some furniture, and a nice rug, a couple of blankets and lived in them. Healing gave me the clarity to understand what I was reaching for. The lens of my life, went from being one of emotion, to one made from (my) truth.

Anger? Pain? They were gifts. When I look at my past now, the pain is gone. I know what happened, but I can no longer feel it. I closed the door on the emotions that rose from the things I experienced, and walked, slowly, away.

Yes, they happened…

They happened.

Happened.

They are not now.

But I am.

So, I chose me. I chose to lean into that awareness of self that was always there but never given intention. I, quite literally, brought myself back to life. That self-awareness is what ultimately led to my healing. Transmuting what once were shadows, into the soft light of love.

This story of my healing isn’t just mine. There are pieces of it, that live within you. The love that transcends, that exists in all things, is the vein of life that connects us. You feel my pain, because you recognize it. And if you recognize my pain, you can recognize my healing.

Love you friend,

Bea