I’ve never considered myself an angry person. I don’t walk around feeling grumpy and sullen, behaving poorly and taking things out on unsuspecting passerby. I’ve generally always considered myself a happy, albeit fairly moody, human being.
But, you guys. I rage all. the. time.
What do I mean by rage? I mean I get really, really, REALLY indignant over everything from misogyny to something as inconsequential as that girl in my poetry class this semester who doesn’t ever know what the hell she’s talking about (iambic pentameter is not the only form of meter, you absolute twit. How are you even taking this class? Ahem. I digress). Anyway.
For the most part, I inhabit the extremes as far as emotions go (see this previous post if you’d like to know more about that), so when something pisses me off- and I mean really pisses me off- I get righteously angry. I rant. I swear. I write angry blog posts. I imagine arguments/conversations/discussions in my head. I stew over whatever it is that’s pissed me off until I get too angry to see straight, or until eventually I calm down. I go on runs, I go for drives, I clean obsessively.
Then, sometimes, I find myself feeling really, really bad and really, really guilty over raging so hard. I’m not an angry person. I don’t like being angry. It’s easier than feeling some other things (sadness, for one), but I don’t like raging all the time- even when it’s a righteous anger, an anger that is well-earned (for example, being angry about things like this).
Part of the reason I started blogging was to have a constructive way to process through all the things that make me quiver with unequivocal, righteous indignation, to process through the imbalances and injustices in the world, the shitty way that people treat each other, the vast, veritable ocean of things that leave me jaded and looking for an out (here’s looking at you, rape culture, politics, consumerism, and that stupid girl in my poetry class).
But lately I’ve been too tired to think and process through any of it. Being angry takes a lot of energy; being righteously angry takes at least twice that. And while it’s kind of nice to not be raging all the time, it hasn’t really been much better. I still get angry about all the things I’ve mentioned. I still have an inherent need to rant and sort through what I think and how I feel. I still need to clean obsessively and problem solve and find a way to work through the anger and come out on the other side with a better understanding (or some other pretentious claim). But I’ve been tired. I have been weary and jaded and it’s been easier to ignore all of these things and push the anger down to the bottom of my throat so I can pretend it’s not there.
Except it is, and all I’m doing is ignoring its existence so I don’t have to handle any of it. And that’s not very healthy, either. In fact, it reminds me entirely too much of someone I used to know, and he’s kind of a mess, so I don’t really like feeling like I’m behaving in a similar fashion.
I guess what I’m really trying to say is, I am not an angry person. I am not an angry person, but I do get righteously angry. I get righteously angry because there are things in this world that I deserve to be angry about, that I should be angry about. And that’s okay. And I need to do better about using that indignation to make a change or make a difference, instead of complacently ignoring it.