I spent most of my life as a self-obsessed, angry asshole. The reasons why no longer matter. Though hard on those I loved, it was even harder on me. Now, although still self-obsessed (I might soften that to self-conscious), the anger has dwindled and I try very hard not to be an asshole. Given the painful vicissitudes of life, you can call that what you like, but I call it progress.
- mce
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This is a treasure! And words so many women long for.
ReplyDeleteThat is why anger is pointless. In the end, it will never make anything better. It's better to learn, to appreciate, and to generally ignore the things that bother. Easier said then done, but still
ReplyDeleteWell, I agree, of course. But the human heart is a mysterious vessel. I don't think we choose to be angry. It's more insidious than that. Speaking only for myself, it developed over a whole lifetime. Many small hurts accrued. I swallowed them, but I never digested them, so they just sat there festering. In the end, they became too much for me to contain. All that built up anger exploded. The explosion destroyed my life and, far worse, drove away those I loved the most. It left me empty and alone. Oddly, it taught me - over time - the reality of suffering and the value of compassion. I still live with the results every day; the pain is as much a part of me as breathing. I can't undo it, although I wish with every fiber of my heart that I could. So, I just try - as I said in the post - to be better or, as you put it, to learn. I'm a slow learner, but I keep trying. My hope is that if I put enough compassion into the world, someday I might deserve to get some back. You can't demand or expect forgiveness, but you can hope for it. I know that is a humble notion and perhaps naive, but it keeps me going. Thank you for reading and for your comment.
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