I've been thinking about anger a lot. Probably because I've felt so angry for a few weeks now. It might be several months now, really. An insidious creeping anger which builds slowly ovet time, layer upon layer, instead of the quick hot fire. I'm used to the second kind, the "I'm late for work why are you driving 20 miles per hour under the limit?!" "Oh hell no, I know you did not just say that" "screw you and the bitch you rode in on" sort. I don't think I know this secret is-it-even-real kind.
But it makes sense if you believe there is grief in the process of pulling yourself out of the oubliette of fear and doubt and anxiety you've been trapped in for so long. Anger, then, is just a stage in that grief. It's part of the process. But I can't get stuck in that one stage. I can't just replace anxiety with anger, even when it seems like anger has more purpose, will get me up and moving and doing.
I'm worried about my physical health, about the vomiting and the sudden rise in blood pressure and whatever the h^ll is going on with my thyroid now. I know they started with the anxiety, but the anger is really whipping it all up into a stroke soufflé.
So I'm trying some new things in the hope that I can keep myself alive to actually get out of this anxiety. I'm meditating before bed, guided and just clearing my head while listening to soothing nature sounds. Maybe I'll actually get a good night's sleep if I stick with it long enough. I rode the exercise bike this morning. Not the tour de france, but again, I think I'm taking steps, howevet small, in the right direction.
The hard part will be keeping at it.
Okay, that's enough screen time before bed. I'm going to chill to a gentle rain audio while focusing on the feel of the cat on my lap.
Goid night.
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