lilies and rage

i bought lilies on sunday with many buds, none yet bloomed. when they hadn’t opened by tuesday, i was afraid they might not, because the last bouquet of lilies i bought as buds never blossomed. when i saw the first two blooms on wednesday morning, i said in my head, “good. i was afraid they’d wilt and wither without opening.” i looked at them last night, hugely flowered, and remembering what i had said to myself the morning before, wondered, “was i really afraid?”  i inquired about the nature of my fear: what is there to fear in lilies that don’t bloom? i was afraid of disappointment. disappointment falls on the sadness spectrum. if the lilies had not bloomed, i would’ve felt disappointed and would’ve expressed it as frustration because frustration resides on the anger scale, and anger has always been easier for me than sadness. i grew up in a household where anger was the primary emotion. both my parents raged. i grew into a raging teenager. when i found my voice at the age of 15, i yelled. i screamed. i cursed. and i was beaten, which i was accustomed to, since it was the reason for my fear and anger. when i left home at 17, i found my voice again, continuing to rage. i raged for a long decade…until i was cured. it wasn’t the twelve years of therapy i’d had at that point that cured my rage, it was falling in love with another rager. when he yelled, i quieted. when he cursed at me, i said nothing. when he became so enraged he raised his hand to me, i stood firmly planted, ready to receive whatever strike came. he cured me of my rage. i never raged again after i met him. i do, however, raise my voice on occasion. i yell and curse without rage. once in a while, i passionately angrily disguise my fear or sadness until i dissolve into honest tears and truthfully express the fear or sadness. it took me a decade to stop raging and longer to feel safe. sometimes i still forget that i’m safe. sometimes i unconsciously or intentionally court danger because it is familiar. sometimes i’m afraid the lilies won’t bloom, because i’m afraid of sadness in the guise of anger. sometimes i’m afraid i don’t have the strength or stamina to endure one more of life’s little disappointments. thankfully, the lilies usually open if i wait one more day.
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About angel joy

love is an action verb. i live love in action.
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3 Responses to lilies and rage

  1. motleyclown says:

    hope rests in tomorrow.

  2. pixie sister says:

    afraid of having asked the lilies to open. afraid they would disappoint you and tell you no. what is one step deeper?

  3. GranDiva says:

    Wow. Painfully honest. I love you.

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