God Take My Rage

"I want a trouble-maker for a lover, blood spiller, blood drinker, a heart of flame, who quarrels with the sky, and fights with fate, who burns like fire on the rushing sea."  Rumi



Rage.  Wikipedia describes the word as a feeling of intense, violent or growing anger.  It is sometimes associated with the "fight or flight" response to an external cue, such as an event that impacts negatively on a person.

Rage lives within me, I believe it lives within all of us.   Maybe three weeks after John died, I had a sudden out burst of rage that was so abrupt, so loud, it frightened me.  It felt involuntary, as if I was possessed for a few minutes.  I attempted to go mountain biking after returning to Oregon and had an issue with my bike that I couldn't seem to fix.  I'm not sure when exactly I snapped, but I threw my bike and gave out a blood curling scream.  I screamed at John.  I screamed at God.  I remember Jake hovering by a tree, terrified of me.  I told myself after that day that I wouldn't do that again, I would control my anger, I would push it away and find distraction when feeling irate.

I've learned that anger is a big part of grief.  While I question it's productivity, I know it exist within us.  When anger surfaces, we turn into something different.  Something dark.  We move away from the best version of ourselves through anger.

I’ve been gone for the past week between work and visiting a dear friend.  During my travels,  I spent a week in Richmond where John and I met and lived together for a few years.  I have found that by the end of a week in Richmond I feel exhausted.  It's as if my past is taunting me.  Everything is so familiar yet empty.  I adore my friends in Richmond but I'm always glad to leave.  On Sunday, I had to drive right through the town John grew up in on my way home from Harper's Ferry  for the first time since 2013.  I think that may have been the final trigger.  I felt him everywhere, and I became angry.  I pulled over and just stared out at the ridge you can see from his parents house and thought about how much life had changed in the last 21 months.   

John and I made many trips up to the Shenandoah Valley whether it was on our way to a kayaking destination or spending the weekend with his family.  I loved coming up here.  I loved seeing where John spent his boyhood days and I absolutely loved the comfort of the rolling mountains everywhere you looked.  I stared at that ridge knowing I’d never come back here again unless passing through.  I’d never step foot in his childhood home again.  This sense of family that we both had here was destroyed. I got back in my car and let my rage completely erupt.  I yelled things I shouldn’t have said.  These words- irrational outburst that made no sense.   

Shortly after John died, I felt an instant need to protect him, protect his choices.  For the longest time I remember telling people that John was well within his limits that day, that I had no issues with him kayaking.  I didn't want my husband to be viewed as reckless or irresponsible.  I didn't want people speaking of him in any negative way.  I even blamed myself for a long time, telling myself if only I had gone kayaking, they never would have done this harder section.  The truth.  No one should have kayaked that day, regardless of expert level.  At the rate the levels were climbing, the nature of each rapid was completely unpredictable.  Swimming was not an option.  I told John these things during our drive to the Smith.  He told me I was being silly.  He told me I was too paranoid.   He told me to relax, that things would be fine.  He should have listened to me.  

These are realities I'm still learning to come to terms with.  Accepting choices that were made that day.  I've let my rage explode at John for these choices.  For the predicament he left me in.  For not putting me first.  For telling me I was silly.  For thinking he was invincible.  I think sometimes when we lose someone so close to us, we tend to view them in a God like fashion.  They go up onto a self created pedestal that becomes impossible to compete with.  This is dangerous and leads to unrealistic expectations for our future.  John was my husband, not my God. 

"The Lord is near to those who have a broken heart."  Psalm 34:18

This morning I laid in bed considering my anger.  I thought about how my heart seems to turn angry over the holidays.  I thought about my judgment towards others and their happiness.  How I take their great outcomes personally, how I find their cute Christmas cards offensive and taunting.  It sounds horrible writing it, but it's the truth.  My heart seems to turn dark during this time of the year.

I wondered if at any point Jesus felt rage and simply put it away.  Was he angry at the world at any point, was he angry at his father?  He certainly didn't deserve the suffering he had to endure.  At one point, he even begged his father to take his suffering away, take the burden from him.  Yet instead, not only did he endure his own crucifixion, but he begged forgiveness on those that hurt him.  Its why we now can have this intimate relationship with him.  It's why my rage can be destroyed and overcome with joy.

My husband was a risk taker.  He marched to a different beat.  He pushed the limits often too much.  His need for adrenaline, for adventure, what ultimately led to his death and my fierce rage, is also the very thing that drew me to him.  It's what made me fall hard and fast.  It's what hardened my heart, yet also softened it.  I knew this about him, yet I was all in.  I wanted his heart of flame, for it made me feel alive.

Rage is not of God.  The anger that festers after loss comes from something dark.  Rage can become who you are after loss, if you let the darkness take over.  It can harden your heart, turn you into a cynical, morbid person.  I've seen this side within myself, and I don't like her.  I turned my rage over to God this past week, and I am sure I will do this a few times in the years to come.  For this is a part of being human, being vulnerable to the darkness, but also recognizing it's little worth, knowing it's source and the zero credibility it deserves.  Rage will destroy you if you allow it to.

I want love over the rage.  I choose indescribable, heart bursting, unapologetic love for John, for myself, for my family and friends over the rage.   I refuse to be a victim to the anger.  God can take my rage and destroy it, it's my choice to give it to him.  I believe this is the only choice, the most clear choice there is.

Lean In

"And me, I remain alone.  Entangled in my love affair with solitude."  Natalia Crow

I get a lot of phone calls throughout the week from different people at work.  Part of my job consist of giving guidance, direction and recommendations to people every single day.  I received a phone call  last Monday with what I thought would be a typical work day question.  Instead, this individual started the question with, “Well, it’s personal.”  I wasn’t sure what to expect.  He wanted to know how I spend so much time alone.  How is it possible to be alone, yet not feel completely lonely and depressed he asked. I have to admit, his question stunned me at first, no one has ever asked me that before.  I briefly wondered if my aloneness was apparent to him.  I also inappropriately laughed, but then realized he was serious and wanted some guidance.  My quick response was to make him laugh by telling him to get off his butt and get involved in the community he lives in.  Take action.  Throw yourself into something.  My advice for the day completed.

Oddly, I found myself going back to his question throughout this past week, wondering what circumstances led him to needing guidance.  What did the bigger picture entail for him?  The more I considered his question, I found myself considering two additional questions. Do you like who you are?  Do you enjoy hanging out with you? 

Continuing to work through the Konmari method, I believe I’ve been asked to take a deep look at myself and all that creates me.  It may seem odd, but I’ve found myself becoming more aware of my body and what an incredible machine it is.  Thanking my hands for the constant work they do, appreciating how quickly they work.  Thanking my feet for carrying me every single day.  Thankful for my health, my physical strength, my freckles that define my face.  We are with ourselves every day, every second.  We are our most consistent presence.  Our bodies work so hard to support us and I’m realizing how much it goes unnoticed.  It is the most valuable thing we will ever own out right. It is given to us the day we are born.  Our most present and consistent  physical possession.  With something that valuable, are we happy with it?

I think we as human’s naturally put full reliance into other human’s which is dangerous.  I am guilty of this human reliance.  I did this with John.  It wasn’t until after he was gone that I felt the need to face those two questions, when really I should have faced them years and years ago before entering into any deep love for someone else.  When we are in a relationship, we don’t always take a hard look at ourselves, our interest, our dreams, what our bodies are doing.  We are a part of someone else, everything is WE.  We become reliant to a fault.   I seem to now notice this more than ever with couples all the time.  This constant reliance on each other as a way to survive in this world.  As a way to feel happy, to be complete.

 In this new chapter of my life, there are many things I must do for myself that John may have done in the past.  There is no man to carry my bags, help me put my luggage in the overhead compartment, change my headlights,  reach that one thing I’m too short to grab, fix my bike, throw my kayak on the car, make dinner for me.  If I don’t do them or pay someone to do them they won’t happen.  We put so much stock and need into others, yet we are all so easily disposable, all withering away on different time tables.  Maybe it sounds morbid for me to say that, but it’s true.  So why do we do that when we have the hard facts?  Why is the thought of being alone with ourselves so frightening at times? 

Shortly after John died, I found myself having anxiety after work and on Friday afternoon when the weekend was approaching.  Most people rejoice when they get off work, I found myself completely dreading it without John.   It was like I was afraid of me, afraid of having to face me and spend time with me.  I didn’t want to spend time with myself or listen.  I just wanted a constant distraction, someone to rely on, someone to spend time with.  I sure as hell didn’t want me.  I think it’s why widows and widowers or those going through divorce or a broken relationship tend to jump too quickly into another relationship, later to find that it fails because it was simply a distraction from yourself.  When I moved to Fayetteville last July, I met a guy that was incredibly friendly and charming, giving me a huge welcome to the small town I chose as home.  I found myself spending more and more time with him and at one point I thought I actually felt more than just a friendship for him.   The conversation flowed so easily and he was the first stranger I really spoke to about John.  Needless to say, one night my need for distraction caught up with me.  I became confused and extremely depressed.  My desire to spend time with him had everything to do with how much I ached for John.  I poured my time into hanging out with him because I didn’t want to feel my loss, my pain.  I didn’t want the silence.  I didn’t want to consider the details of my relationship with John, the good and the bad.  I wanted none of that. Choices like that aren’t sustainable and people get hurt that way.   I hurt him through my own fear of aloneness.  I used him to fill an impossible void that no human could fill. 

The last 20 months I’ve taken a hard look at me, the woman I am, the woman I’ve found, and have asked myself that simple question.  Do I like me?  Do I like hanging out with just me? I believe our ability to answer these questions comfortably can define our human experience here on earth.  Answering these questions requires an acceptance of solitude.  It requires us to tap into the silence and listen to our own vibrant thoughts.  These questions ask us to remove the distractions, remove the quick fixes, the cheap thrills, and to spend time with us in all our thoughts, our pains, our dreams.

 I enjoy pouring a glass of wine, making myself dinner and watching an episode of The Walking Dead.   I can laugh pretty hard  by myself at something silly at least once a day.  I enjoy sitting in my lounge chair and reading a mystery thriller.  I love walking through the woods with Jake while listening to a sermon from my church in Grants Pass.  I’ve taught myself to  play the guitar and change my own mountain bike tires.  Cooking is a true passion of mine.  I’m a neat freak and am totally OK with it even though I believe it is border line obsessive compulsive disorder.  I dance to Beyonce a lot.  I truly enjoy reading scripture every morning.  I day dream about personal business ideas.  I believe my passion falls in the form of outdoors, leadership and project management, just not sure how to pull those together yet.  Mountain biking is the best physical release for me and kayaking is different now and I’m accepting that.  I love the comfort of my home and simply being in it.  Writing is a true grief release for me.  These are just a few of many things I’ve discovered through my solitude.  Through getting to know me.

Learning to love me goes deeper though.  As a believer in a loving higher power, the last 20 months for me has been learning to listen to his spirit that lives within me. To acknowledge this presence through everything, both simple and complex.  Having gratitude for the many blessings in my life, not the pain.  Acknowledging his work every day whether it was a safe drive, a good night sleep, a productive day at work, a phone call from a friend, extra strength.  I’ve learned that love for oneself allows you to give genuine love to others.  It allows you to help others that need you.  It grows something soft in you that allows compassion and empathy to come forward.  Truly loving yourself also lets you know in your gut when you’re wrong, when you're judging, when you’re hurting others.  Love for yourself shows you that you don't need a husband or wife, boyfriend or girlfriend for survival or for completeness.  Instead, loving yourself makes those relationships with others the strongest and healthiest they will ever be.  It makes you genuinely want it, not simply need it out of fear of being alone.

"There is no fear in love.  But perfect loves drives out fear."  1 John 4:18

So if I could truly answer my co-worker and friend’s question, I believe I would answer it with another question.  Have you gotten to know you and the incredible love the universe has for you?  For that love is indefinite, it is not fading, it will be with you beyond any human experience.  So lean into the solitude and silence and spend time with you.