Thoughts after a friend’s comments today. She made my life make sense.
Yes, I am safe.
“It’s your job to help them make sense. You’re really good at that. You have a unique angle… Praise these people for the good they’re doing.” -C
Judgement (piano music)
Anger at incompetence
They’re doing their best
Your best isn’t good enough
My best isn’t good enough
It never is.
She pointed out I let things get me upset. There are many thing worth being angry about. I don’t understand artificial limits. Things are SUPPOSED to make sense. People are supposed to be good and competent and do their jobs well. Life is supposed to be good. Objects belong in their assigned places. Needs should be met. There should be love.
Yet, there is chaos. The force of the world turning empties the drawers. Walls fall down. Good people die. Fourth graders run the world.
IT’S NOT RIGHT.
People wonder why I get mad. I can have empathy for individuals, not so much for systems of care. The happy people seem to not have or have overcome this programming. I observe them operating calmly under the belief that people are good, practicing forgiveness and rest. This is utterly foreign to me. When I try this I have to not care. I stop giving a shit and my anger turns to bitterness. It erases my hope.
The anger is what propels me, causes me to seek or make change. People don’t like it. I assume they think I do, like I could walk away if I tried. There’s nothing else inside.
(quiet pause, close my eyes)
I want to die.
(watch the people)
When you take the anger I sit on the floor, silent, looking up at you. Who’s my mommy? Will you take me home? I don’t belong here.
Inside the donut.
Thank you, God.
Thank you, C.
“Lord I’m Ready Now” by Plumb plays over and over in my head. It’s so intense. I’m ready to let go. I don’t want this anymore. Fall into the arms of Jesus and weep. I feel so alone.
Yes, I’m a bitch. It’s all I know. I’m sorry. Please forgive me. Teach me your ways.
Read the book.
© Michelle Routhieaux 2014