Hello Anger My Old Friend

I have resolved to be calm. I have resolved to approach things in a calm way this time, not as I usually would do. It won’t help me to get upset, I tell myself. It won’t help me to get upset. It never helps me to be upset. Where is the need to be upset, I asked myself? Where is the need to be upset? Outside the birds are singing. I tried to make myself listen to them. I try to find the time just to quietly listen, just to sit still and listen. ‘Listen to the birds’, I tell myself. ‘Listen to the birds. There’s no need to be upset. It never helps you to get upset…’ This time it’s going to be different and how wonderful that will be! No need to be angry, no need for me to have my stomach twisted up in a painful spasm of impotent rage. No need to be preoccupied with constant thoughts of what it just happened. No need to be triggered, no need to feel that oh-so-familiar feeling in the pit of my stomach. I know that feeling so well – it’s my constant companion. ‘Hello feeling’, I say, ‘you’re my constant companion – I’m going to make friends with you…’ I’m going to make friends with the impotent rage, I’m going to make friends with the bitter disappointment. I’m going to relate to my feelings in a peaceful way; I’m going to be generous with them and allow them the right to exist. ‘Hello anger my old friend’, I’m going to say, ‘I allow you the right to exist, I allow you the right to be there’. Hello anger, my old friend. Hello. You’re welcome. You’re welcome to be there. I’m not going to throw you out this time. I’m not going to curse you. I’m not going to revile you. Hello disappointment, I’m not going to abominate your name. Hello sadness, I’m not going to abandon you. I’m going to reach out in friendship. I’m going to tune into my body. I’m going to make myself listen to the birds again. I try to slow my reactions down. All I can hear are the crows though. A chorus of crows. They seem to be mocking me, they seem to be laughing roughly at my attempts to bring calmness into my life. They have nothing but derision for me, or so it seems. They dismiss my attempts to find peace as being utterly foolish. Who are you trying to fool, they say. Who are you trying to fool? ‘Fool, fool, fool’, the crows are cawing contemptuously. Can’t you feeling the rage in your stomach even now? Own up to yourself! You are twisted up inside with it. Own up! Own up to yourself! It’s the rough wisdom of the crows, I tell myself. They have no time for this touchy-feely crap – they are contemptuous of me in one way, but in another way they couldn’t care less! Why would they bother themselves with my ridiculous laughable stupidity, after all? Why would they give it any attention, any concern? I decide to get out of bed. It’s not going to be a good day – I can tell that already.

 

 

 

 

 

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