Someone made me very angry today. I felt undermined, cheated, angry. I haven’t been that ragingly-unable-to-speak angry in a very, VERY long time. In fact, I think the last time I was that angry was over two years ago.
The personal affront was one of those stinging, underhanded rubbish.
And I sat there, seething, unable to say anything. All cotton wool and potatoes in my mouth. To let my anger rip would serve nobody, albeit very tempting. And so so relieving.
But it wouldn’t solve anything.
So I dove headon into what I needed to do today (which was and is, a lot)…And I dove straight through my work, turned on that good old iTunes…and made it through the day.
The thing is, I guess, what I’ve learnt from this anger, is to not flipping trust. It’s what the core of my anger is here – the abuse of trust. I trust this person, with much. Much of my inner monologue, my thoughts, the pieces of me that many people don’t ever see.
They know all of this about me, and now they cross straight through it. I’m angry because that trust is broken.
Truth is, though, they broke it, not me. At least I know that.
I could’ve used the wisdom of my parents today. They’d have got angry with me, calmed me down, felt the sting through with me, and helped me to let it go, with wise words about how this was just another one of those things…and that tomorrow would be less insulting.
I have to give myself that talk nowadays. And that sucks. I really felt for them today, in a big way. Some days, I wish I could just phone them and talk. Nothing more, just talk. Just be heard and reflect and resonate and…ah…if only there was a telephone line to them.
Cherish your parents, people. They’ll be gone before you’re ready.