“It is a very terrible thing to be far smaller than one’s rage.”
― Frances Hardinge, Fly by Night
They all need to be punished! A wet noodle for everyone! Including ME! I’ve pretty much lost control of my mind. The same thoughts go around and around and around. I’m going mad. Or madder than I’ve always been.
I’m Angry
I’m so angry about so many things. I’m angry at that teacher and his assistant for attacking me. I’m angry at the dance community for attacking Scot and Michael. I’m angry with that person who has been trying to make me personally responsible for their feelings. (Fuck, it wasn’t even your pronouns I messed up! I can barely remember names! What are the odds I’m going to remember everyone’s pronouns? Leave me alone!)
I’m angry with work for…well I don’t know yet because that hammer hasn’t dropped and it’s driving me nuts not knowing what it’ll be. I’m angry with young people for treating me like I’m old and at older people for buying into that crap and acting old.
I’m angry at that doctor who killed my mother when she was in the hospital. I’m angry with all the doctors, therapists, and other professionals who refused to help me. I’m angry with my father for being selfish and thinking that children could be trained like military dogs. I’m angry with my mother for letting it happen and for her addictions. I’m angry at my grandparents, although I also love and miss them the most. I’m angry at my aunt for stealing our inheritance.
I’m angry with myself. I’m angry that I’m so angry all the time. I’m angry that I can’t seem to control my thoughts. I’m angry that my brain chemistry makes life a rollercoaster. I’m angry that I’ve been turning into a misanthrope and have convinced myself that there is no such thing as a good person. Just people who haven’t proved to be evil yet.
I Try
I tell myself, “Fuck it, I can just be a good person, even if I’m the only one.”
I walk down the street and give people big smiles. They almost always smile back. I know it’s the simplest action that has the biggest impact. Just having someone acknowledge your existence, and with a smile, can change a person’s day. Maybe even their life, if they were on the edge.
I’ve often laughed at our social rituals. “Good Morning! How are you?” “I’m great! How about you?” “I’m doing great too! Have a nice day, you hear?” “You too!”
So meaningless. People ask me how I am, I tell them. Heh heh. Suckers…
But then there was this guard at Homeland Security in downtown Seattle. He was an older gentleman who kept an eye on the garage. I walked by that man every day. And every day…
“Good Morning! How are you?” “I’m great! How about you?” “I’m doing great too! Have a nice day, you hear?” “You too!”
The look on that man’s face, just engaging in that meaningless exchange, was priceless. It utterly made his day.
Such a small thing. And yet so powerful.
Maybe it’s enough…
Or Maybe…
Or maybe people just really need to be punished. Me included. Humans are just terrible critters.
- Pet Owner? Sounds benign, but it’s actually slavery.
- Vegan? How many animals lost their homes or lives to grow your food? How can you morally justify the consumption of plants, let alone all the agriculture to support it? Rows and rows of cornstalks. Just growing and waiting to be eaten. Reminds me of the pods growing the humans in the Matrix. It’s species-ism. I’m tired of your misplaced moral superiority.
- Domination. Humans are constantly comparing themselves to other humans. Looking for reasons to feel superior so they can justify attacking and hurting them. They lie to themselves about it so that they can feel good about it.
I’m no better. I see the irony in all of this. I feel morally justified to call for the punishment of all of these people who have angered me. Including myself.
It also feels like my anger outweighs the offences. The anger I feel is too great. It’s trying to destroy me in its ferocity. There is something more here than a lifetime of dealing with dumbasses.
Helplessness
This is the world we live in. To live as a human being in this world means that no matter what we do, something else will suffer. That’s the challenge of being conscious at this time. Being honest with ourselves about what we are to this world. We are parasites, viruses, and the only good we do, ever, is for our own species.
To understand that and live anyway is the hardest thing to accept. In a world in which all actions are harmful, each person has to decide for themselves what they can live with. Society also has to draw a line.
It’s very easy to see how domination has become so prevalent. We can’t live with ourselves, so we search for reasons that we are better than others. Morally superior. Enlightened. When we find those reasons, we punish those who violate them.
All of this to cover up the fact that in the face of this world we live in, we are all helpless. No matter what we do, we are who we are. And this helplessness is completely unacceptable. We can’t live with it.
Morning Pages
A couple of days ago I started doing Morning Pages again. Just a few pages a day getting the crap out of my head. If you don’t know what Morning Pages are, they are stream of thought writings designed to purge yourself of all the bullshit in the noodle.
Yesterday, I was yapping again about all the things that have been pissing me off when the tide turned, just a bit. I started writing about why I was so angry. A deeper reason.
It really is helplessness.
It’s the reason for everything that has happened to me, and the reason for my anger.
- My Dad – helpless in the face of the abuse his mother heaped on him.
- My Mom – helpless in her relationship with my dad, her own brain chemistry, and her addictions.
- My Dad’s Mom – helpless in the face of her own childhood trauma (ancestral).
- My family in general – helpless in the face of societal rules, of which my existence violates. (Yes, I know there is a secret about my birth.)
- That teacher’s assistant – helpless in the face of a supposed authority figure in the entertainment world, co-dependence, and the idea that actors should be able to take abuse.
- That teacher – who knows what his problem was. Maybe it was trauma due to his being ousted from the school he founded after only 5 years.
- The Dance Community – even though many stood up for Scot and Michael, they were all helpless in keeping the attack from happening. And perhaps helpless in the need to belong.
- Pronoun Girl – helpless in the face of her own feelings and the need to find a reason for them outside herself.
- Doctors and other professionals – helpless in the face of regulations and insurance payments. So helpless that a doctor tried to assuage his guilt by justifying the killing of my mother for “financial reasons.”
And then, there’s myself.
- Helpless in the face of my brain chemistry.
- Helpless to find a way to live with my continued existence in the face of all the shame, blame, and judgments.
- Helpless in the face of getting older and working in an industry that should have spit me out 15 years ago.
- Helpless to help Scot and Michael. I didn’t even know the craziness was happening. I had no chance to stop it.
- Helpless to help all of these people on the street, and those heading there, maybe even me.
- Helpless to stand up for myself in that destructive class.
- Helpless to stop whatever hammer is coming in my workplace, except to study hard and get more skills.
- Helpless in the face of climate change. You don’t really think politicians believe it when they say it isn’t real, do you? It’s imminent, and they are trying to keep us calm. It’s what I’d do.
- Helpless in the face of the disintegration of humanity. Or perhaps the re-emergence of our true nature as brutal.
No wonder I’m so angry. The helplessness overwhelms me, especially since I see the truth of humanity. I see the paradox. My eyes are open. God help me but there are days when I wish my eyes were still closed. I was much happier when I was an egocentric nincompoop. When the whole universe revolved around me.
But open they are and now I have to figure out how to live with it rather than let it destroy me. What do I want my response to be? I don’t have any interest in belonging to groups who attack their own members. I don’t want to be a bad person. I really don’t. Yet my anger is leading me there. I hate it. I wish very much to find a good role model. So far, it’s Mark Manson. He’s the only one who makes sense to me at the moment.
But maybe, now that I’ve seen that it’s the helplessness causing the anger, I can find a way. Maybe…
But…
This is a month later and I still can’t stop being angry.
