enraged-Shaft
I'd like to think of myself as an intelligent, rational, gentle person. Yet there are things in this world that ignite a smoldering rage within me. A lot of it (loathe as I am to admit it) is willful male bravado, a testosterone-fueled haze that occurs as we hurt or see others hurt and feel powerless to help, comfort, or stop the pain. Another part is deeper and scarier by far.
Like all my emotions of recent days, I'm in over my head on this one, too. Restraint is taking so much of my energy; I've tasted bile throughout the day. A couple of blow-ups, too-- I'm glad I've been in the office alone today. I long for the strange stillness of yesterday afternoon (not just for myself) and a shared recipe for tea.
Community Group is not something I look forward to tonight. I can't invite them to be where I am. Now, that's not even where I want to be. I just want to be where there's the clink of a teacup and an occasional glance upward.
And I don't know if I can have it.
