Do not teach your children never to be angry; teach them how to be angry. – Lyman Abbott
My acupuncturist was giving me a bit of a lecture the other day.
We were talking about my gall bladder meridian, which he had determined was in need of some TLC. Apparently, Traditional Chinese Medicine associates the liver and gall bladder with the emotion of anger. He asked me where my anger was coming from.
Me, angry??
I don’t usually think of myself as an angry person. My glass is always at least half full. Life is good.
I accept that I am responsible for my life and I gladly create my own prosperity. I don’t feel like I am plagued by enemies or cursed by fate.
My future is bright. I am blessed.
Still, it would be true to say that when I entered perimenopause I started experiencing angry outbursts that seemed to roll up from the soles of my feet and explode out the top of my head.
This would typically happen just when I was congratulating myself on handling all my swirling hormones and relentless responsibilities with grace and aplomb.
Or just after one of my sons kicked a stone through the rear window of the minivan.
It was an annoying event, to be sure, but not the end of the world. Still, it felt like the end of the world, for just a moment there. As my head was launching into outer space.
These extreme hormonal outbursts are, in my humble but informed opinion, the single worst part of being a mid-life mommy.
Or the child of one.
Where, indeed, does this anger come from?
The beauty of acupuncture is that you have to sit still for awhile. I’m not sure if this is true for everyone, but I know that I am personally not comfortable walking around with needles sticking out of my forehead and extremities. And the four circling my belly button might make an interesting fashion statement, but I didn’t want to test it on the street.
So, I was still. I listened to the beautiful, relaxing music. And I tried to listen to my heart.
“Hello. I’m here. What are we so angry about?”
I’ve asked myself this question many times, over the past couple years. Sometimes, I’ve been angry about something real – something firmly grounded in the present and worthy of my attention.
Many times, I’ve found anger wedged in my cells, buried since my childhood, college or my years in Corporate America. This anger feels old and pointless, but it still needs to be dealt with.
And I have dealt with it. I have forgiven every person and processed every feeling I could find. I think.
This day, as I waited to hear back from my inner self, it felt like there was no one left to be angry with.
“Haven’t we gone over all this already?”
Okay.
Maybe, I’m just a teensy, weensy bit angry at myself.
Why? Because, when viewed from a certain perspective, my life could be seen as a long, endless stream of failures. Because no matter how hard I try – or how sincere my intentions – I am still a mess. Mortally imperfect and getting more so.
Dammit. Hormonal, much?
I googled “anger” today. Here’s what I found:
1. Women are much more likely than men to feel like they cannot express anger and be socially acceptable. I think this means that we tend to employ “flight” a lot of times when we would be better served by staying around to “fight.” This is totally me.
2. And, women are much more likely than men to turn their anger upon themselves.1
Dammit again. I hate being a clichéd stereotype of the human female.
Anyway, I begin to believe that there is a place for anger at mid-life. Or, more precisely, I believe that mid-life is a natural time to acknowledge, process and release the anger that many of us carry around, buried deep in our physical bodies.
Certainly, the ongoing ebb and flow – and occasional tidal wave – of hormones that seem to characterize perimenopause can be useful in pulling this buried treasure(?) to the surface.
We just need to... acknowledge, process and release. Preferably without vomiting it all over our love ones.
How?? More on this in a future post. For now, as with all things in life, let’s just practice.
Practice exercising our anger, when appropriate, in the present. Think of it as a power source that needs to be directed at a useful target. Use it wisely and responsibly. Don’t waste it.
Practice taking our own “time outs” when something bubbles up unexpectedly. Remove yourself from all human contact and give yourself the gift of figuring out what in tarnation you are really mad about. Name it. Release it.
Practice excavating our anger proactively. When you feel emotional – and before you explode – go to a quiet place and listen. I read somewhere that the best way to release rage is to cry it out. Don’t worry about being “girly.” Endow your tears with righteous cleansing power and let them flow.
And if you want to really help change the world for the better, consider teaching your sons and daughters to cry out some rage of their own.
Related Posts:
I’ve written about perimenopause, mid-life mommies and hormones(!) in,
How A Bubble Bath Saved Family Movie Night and
Parenting From the Trenches: When Mommy Misbehaves.
Recommended Reading:
If you are ready to start excavating your own anger, please allow me to recommend one of my favorite self-help books ever, Louise Hays' marvelous, multi-purpose, You Can Heal Your Life. You really can. Heal your life, that is.
And if you insist on blaming yourself for something – or everything – well, welcome to the club(!) and check out Louise’s beautiful guided meditation, Forgiveness/Loving the Inner Child.
Source:
1 Pick, OB/GYN NP, Marcelle, Let it out – the power of anger, www.womentowomen.com.
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