Escape From the Rage Cage

Can you hear this?

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I had two road rage incidents this week. My middle finger was aggressively raised at both offenders; the first in response to the other driver's middle finger and the other I displayed as the asshole sped by after tailgating me through my neighborhood.

The first happened when I was driving solo, but the second was next to my 12-year-old son. When he saw me flip the bird, he let out a surprised snicker. It snapped me out of my rage and felt I needed to explain. 

"THERE IS NO REASON TO BE TAILING ME SO HARD WHEN I'M GOING 30 IN A 25 AND WE ARE IN A GODDAMN NEIGHBORHOOD! LIKE, WHAT THE HELL???"

Hmm, not much better. 

As we continued the drive, a wave of shame coated my skin. It isn't uncommon for parents to forget our kids are always watching, but I guess I've fancied myself a bit more savvy than the average mom. Being an observational person has been one of my lifelong strengths, so I know when my kids' are absorbing my behavior. But, not that time. My son saw me, my son heard me, and I was caught in a moment of which I'm less than proud.

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I'm angry a lot nowadays. More than I'd like to be. And I'm so FURIOUS about being angry.

Last year, I experienced a few sudden health challenges. Nothing serious, but enough to feel uneasy and concerned for my wellbeing. When I went to multiple doctors to address what I was going through, one question kept coming up:

Are you experiencing any increased stress or anxiety?

Um, fuck yes. Aren't we all??

IF YOU AREN'T ANGRY, YOU AREN'T PAYING ATTENTION!!

Yup. Well, I've paid attention and now I hate who I am becoming. 

I used to be an optimist. My mind would seek how things could get better or why an event or experience wasn't the worst thing in the world. Sinking into a really dark place was a destination I just refused. My penchant for positivity has severely dwindled in the last 10 years and, more than anything, the feeling of not knowing who I am anymore is the darkest place I've ever been. 

Without getting into the details of all the reasons I hate this timeline, I know for a fact that I need to change my own way of existing within this nightmare era.

First, I'm writing again. And yes, I'm writing about how angry I am, but I had to start somewhere. Writing has always helped my soul. From my childhood journals to this blog, sporadic poetry entries in various cute notebooks I impulsively bought from Barnes & Noble, comedy sketches, short novels, scripts - they all take my blood pressure down a few points. And as tough as it is to get my ass to sit and write, I need to do it.

Also, I must stop getting swallowed by the algorithm. It's rather pathetic how I've let myself get addicted to social media. Now, I do allow myself some grace in the knowledge that the tech fuckers have designed these platforms for addiction. Hell, I even got cast in (and cut from) a movie about it (see: The Social Dilemma). In the last decade, I can attribute 99% (conservative estimate) of my dark moods and shitty outlooks directly to something I saw in my feed. Time to starve.

Another area that needs my attention is health. I've suffered from health anxiety for decades and I'm thrilled to report I've already taken some huge strides in that department. From squishing my boobs to a camera up my pooper, I've checked off some major fears off my list. Conquering those screenings has launched my motivation to keep going into overdrive. Being a woman in my late 40s, scary and confounding symptoms seem to pop up on a daily basis. Add in my tendency to catastrophize something as small as an eye twitch (I HAVE EYELID CANCER!!), this phase of my life has the potential to be mentally debilitating. Nope. I'm planning to be the Self-Advocating Queen! Women's health is grossly ignored in all facets of our health system, but thanks to so many fierce friends in my life, I know how to make sure I get the help I need. 

That's as far as I've gotten in my quest to stop my plunge into a full rage monster. Okay, that's not totally true, I've considered a lot of other, more drastic, options (anyone want to build a commune off the grid??), but I'm content with my current plan. 

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I apologized to my son a couple of days after the middle finger incident. He shrugged, reached for my hand and said, "I know you're stressed, Mom." Guilt immediately filled my heart. Not that we shouldn't show our kids our emotions, but I couldn't help but feel like I was failing my kids by losing myself.

Women have a great capacity to feel many things at once. This isn't a time to let go of all my rage, because it is absolutely necessary to keep up a very necessary fight for decency in this world. I'm scared about so many things that are happening, but I must channel a healthy rage and keep the essence of who I am and who I want my kids to see. Just by writing this, I can feel my old positive persona emerging from the dark sludge it fell into. She looks a bit older and worn out, but she's there. 

Seriously though... don't tail me. It's so rude.