Monday, April 6, 2015

Writing Challenge, Day 11: Seeing Red

You all will notice I took off a few days. It's hard to write when you're stuffing your mouth with greens, chicken & dumplings, bundt cake....

'Scuse me. I had a flashback. 

Today's topic is supposed to be whatever is currently on my mind, which is a slightly provocative topic: anger. Let's see what comes out today! 

Last week, I had a few situations going with paramours from the past. You know how it goes: you haven't heard from them in weeks or months or even YEARS, but somehow they magically find your number and try to immerse themselves in your world once again. In the most snarky nicest way possible, I told them I wasn't interested in conversing with them. 

I got called a "seven-letter word/five-letter word."

I was told I was selfish and close-minded.

My favorite? That I should be glad that he thought of me four months later. 

EVERYTHING in me wanted fire back, which I am completely capable of doing. When my mental wheels start turning, no one is safe. I turn into the black Julia Sugarbaker, hurling insults and tirades and salacious monologues that literally cause jaws to drop. 

I've had that effect on people since kindergarten. I'll never forget the look on Mrs. Seller's face when I informed her that I would cuss her out if she didn't let me go to my daddy's job...and then promptly followed through on that promise. 

At a Christian school. *facepalm* 

Just when I was stretching out my thumbs to fire off one of those three-message long text messages, I realized that this was indeed a test. In my Tilling Time (Bible study), the topic has consistently been about dealing with anger. I would highlight passages, nodding my head and thinking about other people who had that problem, but "not me!" I'd pray for God to help all these people who were dealing with anger issues, while giving myself a little pat on the back for not being like them. 

I should have seen this test coming from a mile away. 

I had a choice: keep holding onto this rage growing inside of me....or let go. I had to let go, y'all--there's just not enough room for anger and hunger in my stomach. 

I prayed a lot, taking the time to really acknowledge my anger. That's important, because I tend to play the synonym game with God and with others: 

I'm not angry, I'm  just a little offended.
I'm not angry, I just wish you would try to understand me.
I'm not angry, I'm just tired. 
I'm not angry, I'm just hungry. 

All of those sentences mean I am just angry...even the last one. ESPECIALLY the last one if I've been hungry for more than an hour. 

I forgave them and myself because, let's face it: so much of the things we hold onto are a reflection of us. But that's another topic for another time. 

I punched the punching bag at my gym until my knuckles started bleeding. I played my PMS playlist (yes, I do have one and it's pretty dope) and I frequently thought of something my Pastor/Dad has said:

It doesn't make any sense for you to sit up all night thinking about the people who hurt you. You're seething with rage while they are sleeping like a baby. Turn it over to God and get some rest! 

Before I even settled into my bed to watch The Cleveland Show, I was totally cool...and no verbal missiles had been launched. 

Not even a single passive-aggressive Facebook post. 

That's growth, baby. 



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