I don’t like to be angry.

I don’t like to be angry.

I don’t do great with sadness, joy or excitement, either… but for some reason most of my “big” emotions end up turning into anger. Most of my little stresses and resentments also turn into anger… and of course, my anger turns into bigger anger.

I know I have anger issues. I have been to anger management, twice. I actually passed it the second time around… so I know the drill. I know how to breathe. I know how to count. I know how to be aware of my body and how I am feeling in the moment. I know that it is ok to be angry. I know that being angry doesn’t make me a bad person. I also know that just because I am angry, I don’t have to be mean. I don’t even have to act on my anger. Sometimes it is ok to just let it be. But that doesn’t mean I like anger when it comes, or that I feel confident dealing with it. I am sometimes afraid that I will snap, when anger comes quickly or unexpectedly. Sometimes I do snap, and I don’t like the consequences.

The worst part of being angry is, when I am no longer angry, I can clearly see where I mis-stepped, where I misunderstood, where I mis-spoke. But when I am angry, I often blunder. ¬†When I get angry, I choke. I can’t communicate effectively. What I say comes out in ways I don’t intend. I am not often deliberately mean, but I can be hurtful. I work very hard to communicate, and even more so when I know I am impaired by anger. The result is often tears.

Because I so despise being angry, I often try to funnel it off into action or other emotions, to defuse it. That rarely works long-term, but it can work for a little while. What often happens, though, is that the anger rebounds later, and if I am not prepared for it, it can overwhelm me. So I do try to deal with anger as it occurs, for everyone’s sake.

Lately, though, a lot of what life has thrown at me makes me angry. At the same time, I feel like I am often ule to deal with it as it comes. The situations are such that I need to be cool, I need to be rational. As if my anger is such a small thing in the face of the circumstances. That it is, momentarily at least, inconsequential.

Henning is very sick and has gotten little support from his medical team. I have often felt that the “system” here would be happiest if he were to simply die and relieve them of the burden. That makes me very angry.

I am very angry with Danish Immigration. They do their best to discourage and dismay foreigners as a matter of course, and I am in the midst of an appeal process regarding my application for temporary residency that is maddening. Literally. That makes me very angry.

I am angry with my daughter’s guardian. My daughter’s guardian is treating her terribly, and has ganged up with her dad to make the poor girl’s life a misery. This guardian is also refusing to talk to me, even though we used to be friends (why she is the guardian in the first place). There is nothing I can do, because, read above, I am in a legal battle that requires my presence here. And I can’t bring my daughter here to me, because my own status is in question. That makes me very angry.

I am angry with Henning. I am angry that he didn’t listen to me about the Immigration issue that has led directly to our application being rejected. I am angry that he listened to bad advice on our situation, and I am angry that he still places that advice over my own assertions, despite a track record of (so far) my “rightness” far outweighing his other advisor. I am angry that he blames some of his symptoms on not being fit enough, and I am angry that he is not taking those symptoms seriously enough. I am angry that no matter how angry I get, I can’t just blow up at him, because I feel like, at the end of the day, he has more of a right to be angry than me, and even THAT makes me angry.

I read something today in The Sun that really resonated with me. A woman writes about her relationship with her husband as they both deal with a recent cancer surgery. She said they had good days, but they also had frazzled days when they feel lost and alone, and resentful. “On such days I can’t talk to him, can’t make him understand what I mean. I say one thing, he hears something else, and instead of solace or understanding, there’s resentment and anger between us.”

It is a wonderful essay, and it reminded me that everyone gets angry. We all are lost and alone in this world, and the best we can do is reach out in the midst of our anger and hope for some branch of understanding to be within reach.

For me, sometimes I can grasp it. Others, it is just out of reach.