Not the “pissed off” as in “piss off” and not “pissed” in that I’m not drunk. I’m royally angry. I’ve been angry for quite some time. I’m trying to learn how to live with. It’s not going necessarily well.

Here’s what I’ve learned about my anger: 1). I’m getting sick of not saying how I feel; 2). I don’t know how to express anger; 3). I’m still working through how to shut down the voice that says, “Anger is bad, and you should learn to let it go.”

Here’s what happens when I do get angry: 1). I cry; 2). I don’t think well on my feet so I’m always regretting I don’t have snappy comebacks; 3). I shut down.

Here’s what I want: 1). To yell; 2). To let out my anger in a way that terrifies people; 3). To not be silent.

Here’s what I know about myself: 1). I often look angry (I’m told); 2). I look scary; 3). When I finally reach my limit and actually yell, it feels wonderful. (And, I terrify people even more.)

My conclusion? I don’t quite know what I’m doing, but I’m acknowledging hard truths. (Good on you, babe. Way to go.)

Baby steps, y’all. I’m trying. It’s good to mark these moments of honesty. With that, I take a quick break away from anger.