Crazy Stupid Anger

"It's all about hiding the crazy and pretending your the most confident girl in the room..." - Carla (Scrubs)

This has kind of been my mantra the last few weeks. Yes, from Scrubs. Don't judge. I've been a little wacky lately ("lately" haha... so funny), and it's taken a lot of effort to keep myself composed, or even just not-completely-crazy. I have failed miserably this last week.

I have struggled with anger for what feels like my whole life. Some of my first memories are of me screaming into pillows (or at my siblings...), punching walls, pulling my hair, basically being really, really angry. I threw toddler-like tantrums up until I was about 9 or 10 years old (and even a few others up to this day). It wasn't that I didn't know how to healthily express my anger, I understood the difference between the healthy and unhealthy ways to express myself. It was that I had so much anger, it was just too much to control. As I got older I found ways to handle it a little better. I danced. I wrote. I ran. I still screamed into my pillow. I still found myself getting really angry about a lot of things. My anger would consume me. I begged God to change me. Why?! I would curse and scream. I have always blamed Satan for my anger. I have blamed God for allowing Satan to control me with anger. Blamed him for allowing my anger. I can't change myself! Why do you let me be this way? Just force me to change! Make me someone else! Every time I thought I had over come my anger, it would spring back up and remind me how little I had really changed. I often worry I am going to completely mess my kids up. How can I raise normal, functional adults, when I am so crazy?? I know God can overcome and even use my weaknesses, but c'mon, this crazy girl has gotta be a little tough even for Him...

Nothing makes me more angry than injustice. Greed. Thoughtless consumerism and all the havoc it wreaks on our world. Power-hunger. Manipulation. Both in large and small forms. The thing that really gets to me: how guilty I am of these things. How easy it is to forget, or to push aside reality and live happily in denial. I get really angry. It consumes me. It effects every part of my life. I can't not talk about it. And if you know me, you know I can get pretty "passionate" in "discussing" these things (aka, me talking really loud, a lot, about a lot of stuff--I'm kind of a verbal processor). I have been told that I shouldn't read the news--basically because it affects me. I have been told I shouldn't feel as strongly as I do, that I need to distance myself from the pain and injustice of the world so I don't get so upset. So angry.

For the most part I agree. I don't like being angry. I don't like thinking about the hungry, dying, and desperate while I am trying to enjoy my comfy, lower-middle class, American life. I can't change it, so why let it consume me. Right? I have always ended those thoughts with a question mark. Should I not feel what I feel as passionately as I feel about these things?

This morning while rocking my sweet and innocent baby to sleep, I watched his eyes drift close, and wished each baby could rest as easily as he does. As I rocked and sang, I felt God speak. You know those moments when something just sits itself into your chest and you know God is there? It's not huge, moving, thunder, and shaking. It's quiet. Almost unnoticeable if you aren't quiet. I actually had a really good morning. I wasn't thinking about anger. I was just appreciating the quiet when I felt this odd realization. Maybe God gave me my anger. Not that I always use it correctly, but maybe He has been teaching me how to use it. Maybe He will use it. I wouldn't call my anger righteous. But perhaps my unrest, anger, passion, and discontentment are not all for nothing? After all, if I were simply happy and content with my lot, would I ever seek anything else? Would I long for Christ's return as strongly as I do? Would I want change so badly that I'd get off my butt and actually do something? Would I pray as earnestly as I have during these times? Cry out to God until my eyes and heart feel they had no more to pour?

I hugged and kissed my sweet, sleeping baby and put him in his bed with confidence. Maybe your mama is all crazy. God knows what He's doing. You'll be ok.