Angry Young Woman

Most of the time I am a gentle, reasonable person. I like to avoid conflict. I like to discuss rather than argue and if I argue, I like to learn and teach during the argument; change and be changed. I don’t argue to win. I argue to resolve.

But there is a rage in me that runs so deep.

This is perhaps why I am fairly good with conflict now, because I learnt to deal with it. I realised one teenage day that I had to marry my ideals with my actions and there upon set out on a journey to become a better person. A good person.

If I cannot deal with a situation immediately I will walk away from it for a few days usually, until my anger subsides and my emotions no longer have the better of me. Otherwise if I strike out when the iron is hot I will set everything around me ablaze and burn things that I love.

I have yet to see the full extent of my anger but I have seen it at maybe sixty percent perhaps twice in my life. It was terrifying. But only in retrospect. At the time it felt completely normal and justified but even in the midst of it there was a hint of reason and I knew that I was holding back. Despite my ferocity I was restraining myself and warning the person with me not to push me further because I knew how much more would come out of me and how hurt (or dead) they would be. I won't tell you what happened because a) you don't need to know everything about me and b) it was wrong and bad and humiliating and you might think less of me. Let's just say I was a bit like a caged wild animal, missing a tooth, starving, on heat, after her babies had been murdered. Experiencing that and glimpsing just how much further it would reach was a massive eye opener for me and quite a shock. It was formidable.

Scary? Yes.

Freaky? Maybe not.

I’m a fuckin’ Irish, Scottish Italian. And a red headed Dragon. What would you expect?

The unfreaky part is that I am fully aware of my tendencies and limits and have always sought to control or change them.

Now don’t get me wrong, anger has it’s place and is valid. I love my anger. I don’t believe in denying any emotions but anger needs to be respected. It needs to be used judiciously, sparingly and cautiously. Anger should not be whipped out willy nilly on a daily basis as it degrades anger and the barer and makes for most unpleasant company. Anger needs to be saved for when it is really needed. Really needed. It otherwise needs to be harnessed, metamorphosed or just dealt with as it can so easily become an unhealthy, dominating beast.

Anyway, all this bla bla is just a precursor to mentioning how surprised I always am at how thin the ice is between peaceful, charming, diplomatic darcy and firey hell bitch.

The thing that usually tends to break the ice with a mere tap of a baby finger? Rustling loud plastic wrappers or talking in the cinema or the theatre.

FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF! You fucking cunts!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! We are not in your lounge room! Go home you mongrel bastard idiot pleb! You are ruining this entire experience for me!!!!!!!!

Breath darcy, breath.

Oh mama. I nearly killed someone in the cinema tonight.

Had I just turned around when mild darcy still resided within with a sweet whispered “would you mind” accompanied by a smile or a friendly, if a little flirty shhh finger to the lip gesture, which is what I wanted to do but for some reason resisted (I think I thought the sweets would run out before I needed stretch my neck around to the row behind), all might well have been resolved and we could have watched the film in peace.

Instead, some time later (like three quarters of the way into the film – I mean come on! Just finish the fuckers you greedy cunts) they copped a wildly irritated head swing, a loud sigh, a death stare and the mouthed words “you’re really fuckin’ annoying”.

Just one moment where there is no fore thought and it’s all over.

I’d be useless if it weren’t for fore thought. Absolutely useless. Some people who know me think I’m overly sensible. Well, my friends, this is why.

But you have to laugh.

Things I have learnt this week:

Self loathing and lack of confidence does not a good actor make.

I think I should try directing, flower arranging, farming or running away.

Much like the thin ice between psycho and sweet heart, there is also a fine line between solitude and loneliness. Between introspection and self indulgence. Between learning about one’s self and just going stir fucking crazy. It’s amazing what comes up when you stop distracting yourself. So much bitter reality. The city is such a concrete manifestation of denial. Even a positive, life loving, love loving, appreciator of all things kind of gal like me (you may not believe it but it’s true) can get completely bamboozled by the seemingly mindless drive on a road I don’t want to be on, through other people’s systems and expectations which I despise.

Oh yes, I feel the bush calling me. Time for a bit of time out. Two weeks of work left. I need some trees, some sunsets, some flies, some dirt, some stars.