Anger

I was so mad. So mad. I think I shocked my system a bit. I definitely scared the cat. Yesterday had been a good day. I exercised in the morning; I wrote some of my novel; I made a good breakfast; work was nicely paced, and I was able to keep things in perspective; counseling went well; Amy and I got ramen. 

Then I watched Arsenal. 

The problem was that it started so well. The first 45 minutes were us dominating. Dominating! And then stupidity. A red card. A penalty. 1-1 at half and we were down to 10-men. Then it was 2-1 early in the second with a great goal by Moutinho and we were down to 9-men b/c of a Leno blunder by the 70th minute. I felt like an insane person. I laughed like someone who'd cracked. I kicked a garbage can on our walk. I sprinted up and down the street. I yelled into the void of million dollar homes that line our neighborhood. 

I'm volatile. I don't know what else to say than that life is hard right now and I'm looking outward for help rather than inward for strength. Because I don't have enough strength in me to feel good about things right now. I can only exercise so much, write so much, Zoom with family so much...but it's not enough. I have to dig deeper for meaning now. Have to confront some things in myself and think about who I really am and who I really want to be. 

It's nice to be angry sometimes. To really feel something deeply. I seethed as I went to bed. Probably slept like shit, too. I was pretty firmly fixed on the wall, but the pandemic is an earthquake that finally jarred me loose. I've shattered to the floor. I have to accept it, no I'm broken, and go from there. 

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