When Anger is Good

Today I feel angry. I stomp around on my walk and kick things and shout and scream at the dogs to keep up and stop racing off until I am nearly hoarse.

I feel angry because I feel trapped. Because Ant is unhappy. Because I am so far away. Because none of this was our bloody choice. When we left the Outpost, a move that was considered with care and deliberated over for months and months, it was to assume management of the Family Business.

We had, from our dusty Outpost dislocation, dreamed and planned and plotted as to how we’d turn the whole thing around, pick it up, dust it off, knock it into profitable shape. We dreamed of creating a home in a place that had been familiar to our children since they were born. We imagined all kinds of enterprises we could introduce: like jam.

But the cynics were right: never do Business with Family.

And therein lies the catalyst that prompted a chapter of unspeakable unhappiness for my little team. The medium that precipitated an avalanche of chaos. Five homes, four jobs, three countries, two years. We’re not there yet: this isn’t ideal; I’m still turning the pages of an unfinished chapter, hoping for a happy ending.

See when we made our choice, we took all the information and we carefully laid it out and dissected it. We drew up spreadsheets to make sure we could pay bills, we talked to our children. We imagined a future. But choices are just the decisions we make as individuals. They’re flakey and insubstantial. Unless we have firm control over extrinstic influences. And we, it turned out, had no control.

So it went horribly, unhappily, irreparably wrong.

Most of the time I can control the anger, swallow the ugly taste of bile-bitterness. Most of the time. But this week I cannot. This week my husband is sadder than usual; his natural joie de vivre, his self esteem, his positivity have taken a brutal hammering because of all of this. He is no longer whole. He would be if we’d stayed put. And if we’d stayed put, in the secure oblivion of the Outpost, my little business would not have been railroaded and I would be busily preparing for Christmas markets.  My children would have had rooms of their own in a stable home for more than a single holiday at a time. And instead of spending the last year flailing and grappling to settle, again, I’d have had the time and the wherewithal and the emotional capacity to support my mum better – she has been in the clutches of another horrible Depression that is almost a year old.

Let It Go people say. Move ON. And that is absolutely the right thing to do.  But how can I when the fallout of that single bad decision continues to manifest toxically in our lives?

Until we have found our place again, until we are truly settled, until my husband has recovered some semblance of the person he was, until I am energetically engaged in my own enterprises again, until I feel able to support those I love with the commitment they deserve, I can’t move on.

And perhaps in the meantime the anger sustains me. Mum always advocated a little energetic red-hot anger was a million times better than a lot of enervated Blue.

I shall continue to kick and scream and spit vitriol from time to time . Perhaps it will prompt me to make better choices .

13 Responses to “When Anger is Good”

  1. Addy Says:

    So sorry to hear this. I agree. Spit it out. Rant, snarl, kick a brick, yell to the hills. Far far better than bottling it up. Hope the solution to it all comes soon for all of you. x

  2. TatuMbili Says:

    I cried as I read this, it hits home where it hurts, and I thank you. I’m ostracized from my mum and dad by two leeching sisters who resent my independence and success and it is breaking my heart. I wish you all the courage in the world.

    • reluctantmemsahib Says:

      TatuMbili I am really sorry for the split in your own near family. That must be very painful. Thoughts x

  3. sustainablemum Says:

    I know little of you situation but I just want you to know you are heard, I am here listening quietly.

  4. carol Says:

    feeling for you… sending big hugs your way – and to Ant. I used to find going to the bottle bank helped (when in UK) as sound of smashing glass was very satisfying… but am sure no bottle banks where you are… talk soon

  5. Ellie Says:

    I have always felt that if there is omething plaguing you, far better to name it, let it out, and kick it around a bit. I find it is easier to ‘move on’, that is, grow despite the chaos and mess and grief and frustration. Festering doesn’t do a person much good. Sigh. I’m sorry it is all so fraught, still. I understand completely. Sometimes the recovery from such events takes many many years … Eventually, what felt to raw and new and wrong, becomes normal and even good.

    • reluctantmemsahib Says:

      Yes Ellie. It eats and gnaws. When life fills up I can feel its worrisome nibbling less. When on my own in isolation it looms larger xx

  6. connie Says:

    Another wonderful post on ‘life’. Thank you for your honesty reluctant memsahib. Life throws huge challenges at as now and again – you are both strong and will get through this time of transition. To repeat Ellie’s words…what felt raw and new and wrong, becomes normal and even good. Time….

  7. Jackie Says:

    It’s just not fair. You have had such a tough time these last two years and have borne it so bravely. I agree with all the above, rant and rave and kick as much as you need to, and although it may help in the short term, I know how raw you still feel, and I am so sorry that Ant is having a really low patch too. And I know how you want to relieve his burden, but unfortunately as much as you want to do that, at this stage it’s not in your gift. I wish I could help more. One day …….I hope we will still see you both next month, it sounds like a weekend in the big city, with friends, fun and laughter may be what you need . Sending hugs xxx

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