Anger has long been my stand in emotion. When I am sad, depressed, worried, insecure, I get angry. I don't want to use the word cover as I am not sure that anger is serving that purpose. I know that I am sad when I am yelling, etc. The anger isn't covering that emotion. It's more that the anger sneaks in through the door that emotion opened and spills out, certainly pushing that emotion to the further reaches of my soul but not really hiding the emotion.
Anger is what manifests when I am feeling like I am now. There are so many things that are making me feel sad, worried, insecure, stressed out but what is appearing to all and sundry is this explosive anger. As I am throwing library books, yelling, kicking things around, I know deep down that the anger is really unreasonable. It is totally illogical and what I am feeling has a lot more to do with the other emotions that I mention. Even when I try to talk about these emotions, the anger just rushes in and takes over. Everything sets me off. There are things that I think justify a strong response but the anger makes me look like I'm crazy thus negating any understanding I might garner otherwise.
Perhaps the anger is feed on this underlying chaos that I feel bubbling beneath the surface of life. Or perhaps the anger is just a manifestation of the tension that I feel surrounding everything else.
For many years, I feel like anger was kept at bay. I thought I had dealt with it. Now it just seems like it's always there. Every night, I find myself angry about something. And I feel like it's all stupid. I am unable to determine if what I am angry about is okay or justified. Instead, I sit here in the dark, looking like the fool. The out of control bitch who is unable to move beyond emotions to have a reasonable conversation.
When I look closely I still see there is so much healing, so much crap that I have not shoveled through. There are these years of insecurity that have developed this thick scab but have never really healed. When I am doing something that requires some kind of confidence, I find myself picking at that scab until just a little bit of blood appears. When that happens, the anger also creeps out. And I realize that maybe I'm yelling because I am afraid that no one will hear me otherwise.