Getting Through It: The Right To Be Mad

in my forgive but not forget era and what of it?

my ladies in their mid-30s, how y’all feeling after this holiday season?

I’m talking to those of us who have been unlearning, relearning, forgiving, coping, understanding, overstanding, showing up, apologizing, owning your shit, breaking cycles, vowing to create healthy family dynamics, going to see the lady so you don’t project onto others…

are y’all alright?

me? I think I am finally giving myself the permission to be mad. and not the type of mad that is all consuming but the type of mad that feels like the freedom to make enough, indeed, enough. the type of mad that can’t live in silence and platitudes on the power of forgiveness. the type of mad that is not a mask for disappointment. but the type of mad that loosens the noose of obedience from around your neck and warms up your vocal cords.

I ran into this girl, I said, "I'm tired of explaining"
Man, this shit is draining
But I'm not really allowed to be mad

as an eldest daughter/reformed perfectionist/former people pleaser, when I have been caught, witnessed, in the midst of anger—-the kind that would spill over from years of being bottled up—-shame would follow closely behind.

“I lost control.”

“I shouldn’t have said that.”

“Damn, now I gotta fix this.”

attribute it to age or motherhood, but I am going through an era of anger. feeling it. expressing it. living with it. inviting it for a cup of tea. a little ki between me and absolutelythefucknot. i’ve found anger to be reassuring, gentle and remarkably patient. she’s a good time girl and we’re connecting. she knows when to come and when to go. never overstays her welcome. never shows up empty-handed, either. last time she visited me, she brought some old memories that i’d suppressed. showed them to me as proof that i could have used her help in the past.

she isn’t wrong.

But when you carry it alone, you find it only getting in the way
They say you gotta let it go

the one thing i’ve loved most about getting to know anger is how content she is with being misunderstood. she doesn’t care what anyone thinks because she knows there’ll come a day when they call on her. and she shows up. she doesn’t even hold it over their heads—-how much they’ve ignored her. i asked her if it makes her mad. she threw her head back and laughed. “nah, i get it, I make people uncomfortable until they get to know me.”

right on.