Rage-ectomy/Fake, Fake, Fake

Monday. Chilly mid-winter day which is as it should be in Chicago in January. Busy day today - client lunch and doctor's appointment in the afternoon so up early to get a good start. The weekend was a mini slice of life. There was anger and hurt, frustration, tremendous sadness, nostalgia, worry, tender moments, lots of laughter, new connections and hope.

Friday evening, ladies' party hosted my friend Carol. Noticed when I RSVP'd that it was her birthday so I insisted on bringing her a cake. Made the mammoth carrot cake I perfected the recipe for, for Patrick's birthday last year. When I checked the address for the party, I noticed on the evite list two people who, for reasons unknown to me, dumped me as a friend years ago. Every now and again I see these people in social settings and they are sweet as sugar, air-kissing, feigning interest and acting, for the duration of the event, as if there is nothing wrong. When I saw their names, anger welled (was having a feisty day) and I decided I wasn't going to do that to myself - subject myself to fake, fake, nice, nice.  So, I brought Carol the cake and announced I wasn't staying, saw the two gals, ducked their embraces and scowled at them - then left. Went into the city to sing at Maggiano's.

The day had started feisty with Kirk (aka Luke). Asked him what he was doing Saturday night and he told me he was going on a date with a gal from the Brazilian embassy. "Seriously, did you just tell me you are going on a date with someone else when just last week you couldn't keep your hands off me?" Told him his ambivalence was insulting. And the thing is, I know he really likes me.....I fit his bill. And yet his whole life he's grazed restlessly at the smorgasbord of womenhood, not settling down for fear of missing out on the next course - not being present with one person at a time (he's never been married for that reason). Told him, if he likes this Brazilian gal to do better by her. Told him he had blown any chance that something between him and me could develop. Done.

And then the memorial service for my friend's child (the overdose). Standing room only. My ex and youngest daughter performed in the church. The reception that followed was bittersweet - old home week, saw people I hadn't laid eyes on in over fifteen years. Lots of hugs and tears and it made me want to try harder to preserve connections. I was introduced to my two nieces, ages 13 and 16 who I hadn't seen since they were 3 and 6. Lovely young ladies who hadn't a clue who I was. "Hi there, I'm your Aunt Sarah." Awkward, right? And then dinner afterwards with business friends from back then - old home week. "What every happened to..." "Do you remember...." Some hard feelings put aside - we are older, wiser and not so omnipotent as we felt back then.

That blast from the past got me to thinking about who I was back then, how I conducted myself in the world and how differently I operate now with some years under my belt, therapy behind me and some needed life comeuppance. People are mostly interested in the fact that I have emerged from five years of serious, intensive therapy - why I did it, what I got out of it. So, interesting to hear my explanations - me trying to give someone a nutshell version of something that isn't easily fitted into a nutshell - a compelling soundbite. And what I heard coming from my mouth impressed even me. "The biggest thing I got from therapy is the loss of rage - a rage-ectomy."

Rage.  It's what I want to talk about today. It's such an unacceptable emotion. So unacceptable that most people who have rage coursing through them can't even identify themselves as full of it. It's on our minds though, right? - especially after the killings in Connecticut. When one of us cracks with rage and goes on a rampage we are repulsed. We behave as if rage is an anomaly. Had you asked me at the onset of therapy if I was a rageful person I would have thought the question bizarre and off the mark. I didn't see myself as operating from an angry place, didn't own my rageful feelings at all. On the occasions rage leaked out I was mortified and confused. "Where is this coming from?"

This is what I think. Rage is all around us and within us. As children we express rage readily but learn, over the course of our adulthood, to suppress it and neaten up our persona - yet the rage is still there, just varnished over. It expresses itself differently. No longer do we fall to the floor, thrash around and cry bitterly when we feel unloved or mistreated. Many of us turn the rage inward, having gotten a societal message that it's NOT OK to express it or hurt others with our angry words or actions. Substance abuse, eating disorders, passive aggressive behaviors, the need to control, promiscuity, sarcasm - it's the rage alive within us, still alive as ever but expressing itself in a way that makes us socially acceptable.

Funny....you're reading this and I'm guessing a good portion of you can't relate. You do not carry rage around...you don't identify with the thought that you might  be a very angry person living in a pacifist's body. That was me. When Kaveh said things like, "I think you were very very angry about that," I didn't get it. Took a long time to own up my fury and even longer to expel it like some huge hair ball.

So, Friday night, I owned my anger - didn't turn it on myself with self-loathing behaviors. Old me would have gone to the party and coped by eating and drinking too much and faking my way through the evening, hoping  those gals would rethink their disdain of me and see me as the wonderful person I am. New me says, "Nah....bitches got me wrong....their loss...I'm leaving here and going to where I'm appreciated and can feel positive about myself."  Felt good to be real.

Challenge - you guessed it. Think back to when you were a kid and how easily you expressed your true emotions and how that changed as you took your place in polite society. Is it possible you're carrying rage around like a ball and chain, calling it something else?

Peace,
Sarah