I cried today for the first time in months. It’s not that I haven’t had a reason to cry. In fact, it’s been quite the opposite. Almost everything I’ve tried to hold in my hands over the past few years has passed through like grains of sand. Loss has become the only thing I can’t seem to lose. But the tears wouldn’t come, and my eyes have remained dry with the heat of anger.
Anger has been my survival tool since I was a little girl. When hurt is too hard to feel, anger takes the wheel.
Anger has kept me from falling completely apart. It was the glue that held me together every time my family packed up and moved to a new place, leaving childhood friends behind. It’s what gives me the determination to break unhealthy cycles that have been handed down through generations. It’s what gave me the courage to walk away from a controlling spiritual environment. It’s what has prompted me to dig deep within to find out what I’m capable of. It’s what lashed out and kept me from breaking into pieces when my father told me there was something wrong with me. It’s what keeps the tears and hurt at bay with every betrayal and abandonment.
Last week proved to be too much. I discovered something personal and precious to me had been destroyed. Rather than feel the pain of loss, I responded with rage. Rather than grieve the piece of my past that was taken, I spent the weekend wavering between denial and boiling anger.
But today, the anger was suddenly too much to carry inside my heart that’s as hard and heavy as stone. Grief settled over me, and the tears welled and overflowed. And, unexpectedly, my heart hinted at forgiveness.
I don’t know what happens from here. I’ve given up on restoration of all things lost. I’ve realized that promises may live for a season, but they’re not eternal. And I’m accepting that reconciliation doesn’t go hand-in-hand with forgiveness.
But for today, anger is my enemy, and grief is my friend.
