I started writing about anger.
Earlier today I got angry.
The fire in my belly angry at the fact that I’m even angry kind of angry.
Sometimes I get angry, I wish I didn’t, I wish I could be one of those perfectly zen yogis who just breathes out negativity and breathes in peace, a window, easy, breezy, beautiful covergirl, but I’m not. I’m just a regular girl, and sometimes, even as I strive for peace and balance, sometimes I get tripped up, and sometimes I get angry.
Someone advised me to own my anger. To feel it. Fully.
And then to release it.
I was still working on the feeling it part, dreading the releasing, because I’m bad at letting go, even of anger.
But then I got a phone call from someone I haven’t talked to in far too long who told me something so happy I barely even noticed as the anger just melted away.
The fire that had been burning through my hands as I clung to it just disappeared into smoke as the enormity of my smile spread from my face out to the ends of my hair and down to the tips of my toes.
I am so grateful for the amazing people in my life. People who remind me that the things and people who make me angry aren’t even worth the calories spent on typing out the letters; a n g r y. People who remind me that there is so much more, that life is beautiful, and that love is real. So incredibly grateful.