I’m now at peace with anger. I’ve had a love-hate relationship with this one emotion. Anger was trying to teach me what I truly deserved, while I pulled back in fear of the consequences because of its perceived power. I didn’t know how to use it. The power anger was trying to offer me felt so fearful and intimidating that I resorted to belittling myself, making myself small, and growing accustomed to other people’s fortress. But I no longer fit into small crevices and cracks.
Anger has overpowered every inch of my body and flesh, and I have no choice but to accept it. I understand now. Anger was trying to teach me my sense of self-worth all along. But I pulled back, because how could I accept that I was worthy? A belief that was so fundamentally foreign to me, so powerful, that anger kept coming back to teach me, but I kept running further and further away in fear. It felt easier to self-destruct. Fear led me to run so far despite getting lost, used, bruised, and worn out. I became the definition of damaged goods. I became the exchange of value for someone else’s self-worth.
But self-destruction only took me so far. I reached the edge of the cliff and I had to make a choice—jump into full self-destruction or finally choose myself. My battle with anger was inevitably coming to an end. But fear crept up again. Fear started to overpower my bones, flesh, and body. Was I going to let fear make this decision? What if…just what if I succumbed? I looked at fear in the eyes, and I never felt so much hatred for one emotion. So I fearfully chose myself. How ironic is it that fear wasn’t so friendly after all? So with love and gratitude, I owe anger an apology. I’m sorry to anger, I’m sorry for listening to fear and shame when all you wanted was to teach me how to love myself.