I was going to go a very different direction with this blog. But I was triggered (in a very passionate and agenda sort of way) when I was looking at my Facebook messages and saw I was tagged in a post. The second tag for “rage.”

Let’s define rage shall we?

rage

noun\ ˈrāj   \

Definition of rage

(Entry 1 of 2)1a: violent and uncontrolled angerb: a fit of violent wrathcarchaic : INSANITY2: violent action (as of wind or sea)3: an intense feeling : PASSION4: a fad pursued with intense enthusiasm

Now let’s break down how it may appear that I have rage. We can’t. You know why? Because I’m in control and I’m not violent. I shoot targets to defend myself or loved ones if I AM the being attacked. I punch and kick and take self-defense classes to defend myself and loved ones, in case of an attack. I have control over my actions. Rage is an emotion that garners so much intensity, when experienced, people lose control over their actions.

I choose my actions. I say no when I want and I say yes when I want. I was in Nashville the past two or so days. I had every opportunity to demonstrate risky behaviors. Several guys was fascinated with the stories about Whiskey Momma and the shit I’ve done in my professional and personal life. I was asked to return to hotel rooms. I chose not to. Not because I’m a saint, but because I have discipline and I’m fully aware of the significant consequences of my actions. Does this sound like rage?

I also sat by a Braves fan who was with his seventeen year old daughter who taunted me (humorously) because I’m a Cardinals fan. I didn’t react in ways I’ve observed two guy friends react to one another over something that stupid. By the way-his daughter “Mulan” was visiting a school in Nashville the next morning. She told me she was gay, we talked about relationships and ways to be safe. She shared pictures and we are friends on Instagram now. Still no rage.

My darling ex received a standing ovation of anger when I discovered how dysfunctional and disintegrated our relationship had become, however, rage was not a part of the interaction. Was I angry, absolutely! Was I hurt, fuck yeah! Do I still get hurt and angry with the dumb shit that happens, duh! Again, controlled thoughts and actions, which lead to leveling out emotions.

I have an outlet or thirty that helps me manage my shit. I have people (I have wonderful humans), places (gym, 102 Tap House), and things (books, research journals, laughing, hot baths). I yell, complain, and cry with my humans I trust and confide in. I have new humans that try so hard to keep up, but I know I’m a shit show. They are still here and probably just as scared as I am. Discipline and support keeps us on point. (Most of the time)

I am a loving and passionate human fucking being who cares more than I probably should. I asked “Hook” how he can care about someone and not form an emotional attachment (one, I want to be able to do it, two, I think he’s full of shit). He said some nice words but still didn’t explain how it could be done. I have researched this so hard, and I’m pretty sure unless you do not have a conscience, it can’t be done. If you care for someone the emotion is already there; the emotion is “care.”

So, the next step is to distance self from others problems (not all of them, don’t be cruel). Hook explained the thoughts he tells himself to manage those limits. They’re good, typical for the helper profession like me(Sure wish I’d follow them more) but…so we distance or “push people away and build walls.” As the walls start rising, who are we hurting? Is that perceived as rage? Nope. It’s a defense mechanism.

Maybe, just maybe, people are genuinely scared to feel and be honest with themselves. I know I still suffer from this disease at times. For example, I obviously have some “rage” or “passion” because I changed my blog and immediately wrote this one as a result of someone tagging me in a rage post (TWICE). But, I’m disciplined enough to know to be kind and in control of my words. (Which is so much easier on paper)

I also know I’m not diluting myself with false hope and other bullshit to get me through the day. I’m me. Real AF. You take me or don’t. I don’t care. But don’t think for a second I won’t call you out on your shit, and not expect you to do the same in return. (Thank you Ariel) Its my humans that help me grow. It’s my humans that challenge my bullshit and accept my response when I tell them to fuck off or distance myself for a minute.

I control me. Not my fears, not my hormones, and certainly not my rage. Or men….I feel like that might be something sage and wise to add. Who or what controls you? Is it stability, a sense of security, belongingness?? Whatever you allow to control you, will. However, you are still actively CHOOSING NOT to do something about it. It takes one tiny seed to grow and change. Find your seed.