2007-08-05

Anger is an energy.

This morning I sat in my drunks-who-don't-drink-anymore meeting and listened to people talk about anger. What sets it off, how they deal with it, how maybe they're not dealing with it. And the first thing that came to mind was how I always referred to myself as a "happy drunk." I believed that I truly was one of these mythical creatures. Happy happy happy. Maybe I would occasionally vomit somewhere inappropriate, but, you know, hey -- isn't that always kind of funny the next day? Happy! Drunk!

It's only been in the last couple of years that I've taken a more realistic look at the way I drank, which was pretty much alcoholically straight outta the gate. And the fact of the matter is that I was never a "happy" drunk. I most certainly was an angry drunk, because even if there were nights where I didn't launch into screaming tirades in the relative privacy of my house after the party/show/get-together had ended, the way I drank was an undeniable act of violence against myself. I had a talent for drinking at things -- past wrongs, people I loved who didn't love me back, rude counter help. And I'd wake up in the morning so hungover I could feel it in my back molars, pinned to my bed as if by centrifugal force. I sure showed them!

Even now, I don't think of myself as a particularly "angry" person. But I'm not sure if that's entirely true. Just yesterday I had myself a nice little bout of self-righteous indignation because the dry cleaner wasn't open AT 9 AM. I huffed back up the hill to our apartment and decried a world where establishments don't throw wide their doors when their little plastic signs say they're supposed to. And the houseboy just smirked at me, as if to say, "Well, don't they know who you ARE?!"

If I've learned anything in recovery, it's that I can take a step back before I let myself get good and drunk on anger. Because it's every bit as intoxicating as the hooch if you succumb to it. You get swept up in it, and you can't stop. You really can't. And before you know it, you're breaking something, or saying something hurtful, or hitting "send" on that email that you really should not send. You lose perspective.

I am trying to learn how to "hold my seat" these days, to sit with the feelings and let them soften me, rather than staying mired in rigidity and self-centered fear. I don't always succeed. I don't expect that I'm ever going to wind up so enlightened and serene that I will automatically wish good things upon the barista who fills my cup all the way to the top after I've clearly indicated "room for milk." But I can't let things like that dictate the rest of my day.

lisamcc at 1:18 p.m.

1 comments so far
vikkitikkitavi
2007-08-06 13:04:42
You know, it was watching a friend of mine deal pretty unsuccessfully with her anger that cured me of a lot of my needless impatience. She was the embodiment of New Yorker impatience, always complaining about the wait in the line, and how this thing or that should have come to our table faster, or how incompetent various service people were at doing what she wanted. It annoyed the shit out of me, partly because I somewhat recognized my own behavior, but also because it made the endurance of inconveniences suck even worse than they would have normally. One day, when we were standing in line at the grocery store, she started going off about how long it was taking. I tried to start a conversation, but she would not be moved off topic. Finally I said "Do we have somewhere we need to be?" She said no. I said "Then we might as well be here doing this together, as being somewhere else." She said, "I don't know how you can be so calm, when we've been standing in line for twenty minutes to buy two things." I said, "I can't change how long it is taking. Here we are. Why not try to have a good time, if we can?" I don't know if it made an impact on her, but it sure did on me. But I guess I'm just telling a different version of the old Serenity Prayer, eh?
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