and probably will be tomorrow…
I’m so angry.
It’s not a good feeling. It’s not a good look.
I’m angry at my stupid, corporate job. I’m angry at my wife’s stupid, corporate job. I’m angry that I work for a bunch of elite wanna-be hypocrites,, and she works for a raging lunatic asshole with a coke problem.
I’m angry little girls are getting shot in shopping malls waiting for the easter bunny. Seriously — are a pair or two of shoplifted shoes worth KILLING someone over? Worth impacting the life of an innocent child for the rest of her days? Worth the trauma that everyone who was there will suffer and have to overcome?
I’m angry the American Government has hundreds of millions of dollars to hand over to a country across the ocean but can’t figure out clean water, housing, or how to harness wind and solar power in a way that is positively impactful for every home & business here in the U.S. of A.
I”m angry that everything I wanted my life to be has turned to shit.
Actually, that last line isn’t completely true. I have a great life. I’m just angry I can’t seem to enjoy it.
I love my partner, the cat, & our dogs. We have everything we need and want. Financially we are better off than many. I have flexible working hours and heat and 3000 thread count sheets. I planned a trip to Hawaii for my 40th birthday next month. My kitchen is stocked with fresh food.
And every day, I feel crushingly guilty. Massive anxiety and shame for what I have follow me throughout the day.
Hot shower? Guilt.
Salad for lunch? Guilt.
Having enough cash to fill up my gas tank, even at $5 a gallon? Guilt.
Twentyish years ago, when I was at the worst point of my eating disorder, after a bad or frustrating day, I would make a round through all of my favorite fast-food windows and stuff myself until I was sick, until it physically hurt to breathe. It wasn’t about pleasure or nourishment or even comfort. It was about punishment. It was about control.
I have an inclination to do the same kind of thing now.