Here's what happened.
An abruptly ended phone conversation that shouldn't have ended so abruptly, that sent me spiralling into the whirlwind of what ifs and doubts and assumptions. A conversation-end that I didn't control. And that pissed me off. I wanted it to end MY way (although, admittedly, I had no idea how the "my way" ending would, well, end, but I had Important Things To Say--or, truthfully--I had not-so-important-and-quite-honestly-already-been-said-thrice Things That Needed To Be ReStated, and I didn't get to ReState Them again). And then they shut their phone off (not against me, but to deal with whatever it was that was taking their attention away from me at the moment), so as I tried to call back, I couldn't reach them. I thought about texting. Stopped my fingers. I sat at the computer and wrote a long ranting crazy-woman's email. Thank god I didn't send it. I went to my dog and yelled at her. Then hugged her. I started to cry. Didn't even know why. But something was boiling up and I was about to go into a full on rampage. I was angry. I was affronted. I wasn't being treated well. I was being taken advantage of. I was going to drive my car until it went too fast and bashed a tree. Or I was going to never talk to this person again. Or I was going to move far away, to California. Or Tibet. I was I was I was I-I-I-I-I-....
So I sat on my bed, trying to reason out why I was angry. What was I angry about, exactly? What wasn't being said? What didn't I get the opportunity to express? How could I change this to make me happy? What about this was under my current control? And then, I just cried. Not loud wailing. Just tears, rolling down my already-reddened-from-anger cheeks. My bed was strewn with sweaters from trying to find the warmest one this morning, and I was grateful for the wool and cashmere and angora pile to hang onto like a toddler's blanky. I cried and pouted and felt sorry for myself. And somewhere in the crying, I remembered to breathe. And I breathed slowly. And the world stopped swirling and that voice in my head shut up and I stopped feeling unloved and untaken care of and alone and I just felt, well, calm.
So, after all this, which took the better part of the hour, of huffing and puffing and blowing my proverbial metaphorical house down, I wiped the tears away, walked over to my dog, fed her, sat down here at the desk, saw I had some emails to answer, began to go through them one by one, until another 15 minutes passed and
I am not angry anymore. I am, in fact, calm. I gained...perspective. I saw that I had turned pretty much a little tiny bump in the street into a large peak of the Rockies. And luckily, I had been unable to reach said friend in order to share my bigass Mountain of Grief with them. And so, after stomping my feet around alone (well, with June to witness, but she already knows I'm a lunatic) for an hour, I got that out of my system and now I feel, well, centered. Clear. Back to ground zero.
I am not pissed at my friend. Sure, I had a few gripes, but nothing that can't be communicated later on in a calm way. But I am even now. Remember that post earlier about wanting a normal year? Having HAD it with Drama. I think I might have turned a corner on drama tonight. You've sometimes got to allow the drama in, cause it shoves its way inside like a nosy neighbor with a casserole. Or better, like a kayak barrelling down class 3 rapids on a West Virginia river. But if you fall into the river, you can let the boat go, choose to not cling onto the side, going over the Falls with the damn thing. Let things pass through you, not over you.
I know. This is the stuff of Life 101. But believe me, I think I might have skipped ahead and missed out on some really important stuff in those early grades. Me and Anger have a long history together. She's in there, but I just gave her a blanky and told her, 'thank you for the information and I'll take it from here'.