Heh. I’m dovetailing from the end of yesterday’s entry.

But seriously, anger really does get a monumentally “bad rap”:

So Sayeth Google AI: A “bad rap” means an undeserved or unjust reputation, often for something negative. It implies that the person or thing is unfairly criticized or perceived negatively, sometimes without proper justification. 

Here’s a more detailed explanation:

• Undeserved: The reputation is not based on actual merit or behavior. 
• Negative: It’s a reputation that is perceived as harmful or undesirable. 
• Unjust: The criticism or negative perception is not based on evidence or facts.

Listen. I can sum this up in one key phrase, which won’t make for much reading, but you KNOW I’ll write more afterwards 😛

Anger itself isn’t inherently good or bad, it’s how you use it that determines whether it’s beneficial or harmful. – Me

I’ll bet someone else has coined this in the past, but I’m not Googling to find out. This is a thing that I formulated in my head (on my own) after contemplating an interaction I had with my mom (back in Arkansas, during the shit hitting the fan). See… my brother is addicted to alcohol. He went into a short-term rehab thingy (idfk what it’s called) that helped him “detox”… during said stay, he had hallucinations from a severe lack of sleep. He did well for a little while, but fell right off the wagon not long after. As a result, he would call our mom pretty late at night (old people go to bed early, ya know) to word vomit. One particular night, she came upstairs and out onto the back deck (where I was, and we usually hung out), frustrated and exhausted, with her cell phone held to her ear. It was maybe 9pm or so? Anyway, I could tell it was my brother on the other end of the line even before she put him on speaker and set the phone down.

It’s been a minute since this happened, so I don’t recall exact words, but the basic premise was my mom saying really hurtful (and wholly unnecessary) shit to my brother, who – in his darkest moments of need – was reaching out to her. He just needed someone to talk to and vent about the shitty things he was feeling. Suffice it to say, I got pretty fuckin pissed listening to how she was talking to him.

I firmly interrupted the phone call and told my brother some harsh truths about whatever it was that they were trying to discuss (his ADHD on alcohol is frustrating, to say the least). When I love and care about someone, I don’t blow smoke up their ass. Even though he was drunk, he thanked me for being brutally honest with him. I’d bet he didn’t remember the conversation the next day, but I’m ok with that. I was able to get him to commit to coming to therapy with me and got him off the phone. I don’t recall whether what happened next was immediate or the next day.

After many decades of repression, I let the [righteous] anger boil over and spilled it ALL over my mom. (And again, not in exact words) I told her that the things she’d said to my brother were cruel and unnecessary. I admonished her for not having kindness and understanding when her son was merely reaching out to his mother for some empathy and a listening ear. I sympathized with her about how frustrating it was that he’d fallen off the wagon and was calling her every single night and interrupting her sleep, but… he NEEDED her, and that’s a huge deal.

I’m sure this caused her to be taken aback, but alas… my memory is shite. Point being? I had successfully expressed anger and didn’t cause harm. This was a huge revelation for me – in that moment and for days after. I didn’t have much time beyond that to ponder it, though, since my brother disappeared and didn’t show up for therapy like he’d promised (probably forgot, most likely because he was still on a bender). This was the key moment when I had casually asked my mom to go with me instead. Thus sparking my therapist to speak with her for most of the hour, convincing her that it was time to leave The Plague – for her own safety and sanity. Bless Dr. Phil so much (haha, yes, his first name is Phillip and that’s the nickname I gave him 😛). I really do miss him.

And here we are at the apex of why anger itself is neutral. I’d experienced a lifetime of explosive, angry abuse from The Plague, teaching me to suppress this horrible monster that both needed to be avoided at all costs (outside myself) and squashed into the deepest recesses of the psyche and never let out (inside myself) for fear of harming others in the same way that I was harmed. I’ve ALWAYS seen it as “bad” and stuffed it down since I was 8-9 years old. Decades of suppression, folks.

However, in a bright flash of motherly instinct (I AM a mom, after all) and empathy for my brother’s suffering… I had let it out. I had NO desire to cause my mother harm and that showed in the way I expressed my anger. With [albeit hard to hear] words of truth, laced with empathy and understanding, and a heaping dose of righteousness in defense of my brother… anger suddenly turned into a beneficial tool instead of a harmful weapon.

Holy. Shit.

Now, that’s not to say that I’ve mastered anger in any way – hahaha, not in the slightest. It takes time, practice, and a LOT of therapy to get to that kind of place (probably the rest of my damn life, honestly). It’s been over a year since that revelation happened and I have not worked on “anger” except in bits and pieces. The most recent time was during Art Group Trauma Therapy. Lordt… but that was a rough one, on the heels of everything crashing around me with The Boyfriend’s addiction. I didn’t even last a whole minute, due to the therapist handing out our info packet and seeing the topic was “anger.” I started crying immediately, no lie. 😑

The last bit I want to note is why I dovetailed from yesterday… the impact of The Boyfriend asking for [even more] patience instead of getting angry/frustrated when he stonewalls… Big F, my dude, seriously…

So yeah. Suppression Mode Activated. I don’t think The Boyfriend had any idea, in that moment, of the gravity of the situation he’d just vaulted into in asking me for that. And no, I haven’t brought it up yet, either. At some point, he will catch up to yesterday’s and today’s entries, and maybe he’ll bring it up… Oh, hi, bby! 😘 I love yoooouuu 😅

Final Side Quest: Sorry, have to do an explain on the gamer nerd reference above, in case anyone needs it. A single “F” in gaming chat is basically expressing condolences. It’s akin to saying “RIP” (for you older folks lol).