Anger anger everywhere...

I get angry a lot. The blood starts to boil and I just can't help myself. I feel the tightening in my chest, the clenching of my jaw, and the heating of my head. These are not pleasant feelings. But instead of wishing they would dissipate, as I often do with other emotions, I revel in the anger of the moment. I run with the feeling and watch it grow until it explodes in some direction. It feels so good until right after the explosion, when I realize that I've just barfed my angry energy all over whichever person, animal, or object has been unfortunate enough to bear witness to my display.

It feels necessary at the time, but I know it's not. I know it's counterproductive to be reactive in that way. What I'm actually looking at here is not anger itself, but the reaction to it, and the aftermath of that reaction. I can say with confidence that no action I have committed out of anger has ever helped a situation. The only time that anger is useful to me is when it serves as a red flag that a situation is not meeting my needs and something has to change. Dissipating anger by taking rational steps to change the situation for the better always works out more favorably, for sure.

So what steps can I take to create space between the feeling of anger and the reaction? Experience tells me that this sort of question only has one answer... practice. But practice what? For me, he best way to interrupt a thought process like that dead in its tracks is mantra. I could always use my old standby, but I want this to stand out in my mind as especially used for this purpose. I want to use it to remind me of my higher consciousness that is sometimes overshadowed in my perception by the passing emotion I am experiencing. Namo namaha? I think I'll try it on for size.

For the uninitiated, namo namaha essentially serves as a reminder that the world does not revolve around me (or you). I use it as a reminder that I am linked in to a higher consciousness; that I am just one piece of the puzzle and not the whole thing.

Perspective is everything.

Namo namaha.

Wandering

I have spent the better part of my day wandering around. I don't know what to do with myself when I am not busy. Today I specifically chose to be not busy, which seemed so nice and luxurious when I was running around like a chicken with my head cut off yesterday. It's an addiction, though. Now that I am sitting and actively doing nothing (words are funny), I feel kind of agitated. I know there are some things I "should" be doing--yoga, walking the dogs, lots of work stuff that needs to be done--but I can't really bring myself to start any of those tasks. Really all that I think (that's an edit) I want to do right now is smoke a bowl, watch tv, and play on my computer. All busy busy stuff that adds to the noise in the background.

I know that stillness is yummy. I've been there before and enjoyed it. But how do I give up noise? Is it like nicotine? Do I have to "quit?" Is such a thing possible?

Noise, noise, noise.

I guess I am settling into it. But I'm so distracted. Fuzzy. Needing to ... ?

Usually I sit here and have some sort of epiphany--at least temporarily. It's not coming today.

The pie chart

And I'm back, staring at the blogger screen with the TV on in the background.

I had a good meeting with Keesha today. She and I talked about the events in my life that have created the masks I wear. They are hard to remove.

I just want to be myself, but so many years of practicing otherwise has made it difficult to even remember who that is. I know that sounds really sad, but this isn't one of those posts. It's just a fact. I remember very vividly many times in my life when I consciously made the decision to mold myself into something that I thought others wanted. I even went to school to become a bullshit artist (ha, ha). And now, the only glimpses of that self that I know is authentic get shoved down because that side of me does not serve whatever goal I'm chasing at the moment.

I remember all of it: becoming acutely aware of how I was different from everyone else. It was all the little things. My name was short, my hair was short, I had glasses, I was stocky, I didn't play sports, my mom worked, I was Jewish... etc. I always remember wanting to be different people, thinking how awesome it would be if I only had this or that. I remember wanting to be blonde for a long time.

Then I started lying. I lied about little things and big things, just to escape from being who I was. I once told a girl I went to camp with that I had a huge mansion. Each room had a different theme. I can even picture one of the rooms in my head--it's the image I would conjure up when I was telling her about how awesome my house was. When camp was over, I really wanted to be friends with her, but I couldn't call because I didn't want her to know that I lied. I made up injuries (I don't really remember why that was so attractive). I told my new best friend in 3rd grade that I was from New York, but my dad was a secret agent of some sort and we needed to conceal our identities.

I was never kicked in the knee by a horse. That, I think, is the only one I'm still keeping up. There were so many people in my life, like a chain, that I told that one to. In order to keep up the charade, I just had to keep telling people. The actual need to lie about stuff like that disappeared a long time ago; it's now just about hiding my secret that I lied so much.

I feel terrible about it, and that's the other side of this coin. I hate myself for doing it. I even remember feeling that way then, but not being able to stop because hating myself for lying made me hate myself for being different more than ever. That feeling has not left. The reasons have matured, but the feeling is the same. Now, instead of creating grand, false realities, I tell fibs about little things just to start conversations or feel secure that I belong talking to the person I am conversing with.

I think that comes more from not being able to tap in to my authenticity then it does wanting to lie.

Wow, that felt kinda good. Publish.