Anger is a complicated thing and it always seems to be fighting to take over my identity. It courses through my veins and vibrates in my cells. I keep trying to give it permission to leave, but it won't. I think there is a part of myself that withholds permission, holding the anger captive in an unsuspecting heart.
I had a dream last night, where someone was hurting my child and I felt that anger over take me. The abuser stood in front of me with the most ugly disgusting look of..."yes I am abusing your child, and you can do nothing about it" on his face. I walked up to him and looked into the deadness of his eyes, then I looked at my sweet daughter who was afraid and confused, not only by the actions of this man, but by the emptiness that this kind of evil brings into a room. I hated him for giving my daughter this experience and I hated him for knowing how much I hated him....and reveling in it. I was sick. My fists were clenched, my heart pumping. He looked at me and I looked at him, but I couldn't do it....I couldn't pound his smug look into the ground like I so desperately wanted to. I felt so weak....physically weak....and I hated myself for it. I was afraid of what he could do to me, or my sweet daughter if I tried and failed. I didn't want to put her through any more trauma, so I stuffed my anger down, took her by the hand and we walked away.
I didn't know how to react with anything but anger and hate. I wanted him to feel pain....any kind of pain, but I couldn't inflict it and that bothered me.
This is a familiar scene in my life, and I knew this man represented everyone who has hurt my heart over the years. I have known far too often the feeling of being hurt by others and stuffing it down until there is so much hate, anger and resentment inside, I feel like I am going to explode.
I feel like a Jekyll and Hyde torn between love and forgiveness and hate and resentment. I was created with a gentle heart. A desire for peace. The thought of hurting someone else has never felt right or appropriate, no matter how much hurt they are causing me,and yet all of that unexpressed emotion is eating me alive.
I remember my brother constantly beating on me and teasing me as a child. I hated him for it, but I would just take it and cry. I remember my mom getting so tired of it all, she would say, "Michelle just get up and beat on him, give it back to him....show him he can't do this to you", but I couldn't. I knew I was physically weaker than him and I didn't want to be mocked for my lame attempt at "fighting back", so I just laid down and took it. I also couldn't stand the thought of hurting him...what good would that do?
I don't want to be weak anymore. I don't want to walk the planet, handicapped by anger, too weak to defend myself and those I love. I don't think I have ever realized more than I do this morning, how small and powerless I am without my Savior. When I woke up this morning, with the sickness of my dream aching in my body, I knew I needed Him to take my burden and make it light. I think I have tried to carry it on my own for far too long.