I feel like a broken record when I say “lately I’ve been filled with so much rage.” And that would be because I am and I have. For whatever reason it has been more than I can handle where I fly off the handle over the littlest things. It’s scary for just my mental health and my overall health. It’s interesting to look at my heart rate spiking during the day when I have crazy blow ups.
For the life of me I can’t find what’s fueling it, either because I can’t or I don’t want to. I have yet to ascertain which of the two. All I know for sure is it isn’t good and I need to work on it. Someone always in a blind rage isn’t fun to be around. And I can’t leave myself behind.
One day it came to me that I was angry because I wasn’t doing what I know I should be. And that is editing my book. So far whenever I leave my thoughts behind and delve into story structure and prose it takes me away and leaves me with a calming peace. It’s really quite extraordinary. However even that could be gasoline at times too.
The problem of being an artistic soul is that art doesn’t like criticism. And to edit is to critique and say “this isn’t good.” But over these ten years, I have learned that I have to immediately follow up that negative thought with “but I can fix it.” Then I dive right in and surprise myself by fixing what was wrong. (At least for that moment until I come back and go “why the fuck did I do that?”)
I will finish editing my book. At this point it is the thing that will get me through these moments of anger. Because it is there that I have some control, even while I have none in my mundane life.