The Maypole Takes A Bow

Posted on March 7, 2006 in Anger

I’ve been handling anger better now. I used to feel that the object was to feel no anger at all. But not feeling anger means not caring; enforcing numbness. Oh how those nights used to be before! The carbon steel edge of wrath keeping me up to all hours. Shaking through my whole body. Bursts of diamond-encrusted rage flung off the tip of my tongue. Joel, Agni personified commiting suttee in an effort to avoid the consequences of irritation.

People sometimes say to me “You shouldn’t lose it,” as if anger were a taboo. They crouch in their terror of themselves. I don’t like that deep purple fetus growing inside me. Better to state your concerns early on and, if they are not addressed, walk out.

A support group which does not acknowledge the validity of anger is not worth my time. To describe a situation without giving away confidences: I attend groups to get support for my care by a psychiatrist. If Tom Cruise were to enter the meeting and attack us for seeing a psychiatrist or defame our caregivers, I would not have to endure that. Not in a group dedicated to treating bipolar disorder using the medical model.

So I am angry. Softly so because I knew I could just leave. The impetus came when the facilitator interrupted me on a dubious point. I am not at liberty to describe it, but suffice to say that the call was not consistent with previous practice in the group. Dishonest anger on his part? It could be. I suspect that if I ask, my suspicion will be denied. Do I trust the denial? No. Which informs my next course of action.

I rose after I heard two friends in need speak and slipped out the door. Over the beige lilies flowering against the rust-colored rug. Down the hall, down the elevator (because my knee ached) and out to the parking structure. No shakes, no bright blood breaking in my temples. I got in the car, called some friends. Declared my uncertainties. Where next?

I know this: Anger brought me to this healing. I let it guide me, wisely. “Joel, these people don’t get what this group needs to be for. And you’re not getting what you need.” Even if given the facilitator role for which I was being recommended, I could not change the group without destroying it. And I do not want to lead it. That reduces me to a stake in the ground, a maypole around which others dance. They get so very annoyed when the pole bends and makes them play hopscotch.

You see, they get angry. And I don’t trust them to be honest or constructive about it. It will always be you you you have to change. No I don’t. Nor should I.