I’ve spent a lot of time writing fiction. So I haven’t been doing long-form journaling. That’s a good thing because the stuff I’m inclined to write about isn’t that palatable.
I’ve been so frustrated with the selfishness in the world and all the ways I see it implemented, and yet I feel if I write about it that crosses the line into me, myself being just as selfish as the things I’m judging. And I’m frustrated with myself for judging at all. It’s a sin, it’s Christ’s grave warning to us and it’s a temptation I’ve been acceding to far more than I should.
I think it was selfish of a man with children to abuse drugs and to kill himself.
I think it is selfish for someone who has married another person to leave that person when he is sick with a mental illness.
I think it is selfish for people to insist that their religious beliefs must dictate the public policy of a nation where not everyone shares those religious beliefs.
I think it is selfish for me to make a list of things that other people have done. Good lord, aren’t I selfish enough for all of the world? Yes. Yes I am. I’m selfish for not working to be outside of my own head more often to be there for the people who need me. I’m selfish to think that my opinion is worth more than another person’s. I’m selfish to think that after reading a few articles or blog entries I can know all of the dynamics of a private life or private relationship. I’m selfish for using other people’s problems as a way to distract myself from my own.
And I’m realising as I sit here and bang these thoughts out on the keys that I’ve gotten to the place where I’m allowing my judgemental nature to supercede any kindness or grace that I could be showing.
Then there’s the bigger question: what in my life right now has me so angry that I have this anger I’m turning outward. I don’t think it’s my health; I’ve been dealing with health issues so long it’s almost a non-issue on several levels. But maybe I’m wrong. Maybe I’m not coming to terms with it in the way I thought. Maybe I’m angry that my parents are aging past the point of being able to laugh it off. Maybe I’m angry that I feel trapped in a situation where I can’t work. I don’t know. I need to think about it. But in the meantime, I’ve written this down in a place where folks can bear witness, press down and shake together the judgement I’ve meted out against others and hold me to it.
Just Another Pretty Farce 
You probably already know that anger isn’t a sin. The admonition is to be angry and sin not. I’m trying not to think too much about my own angry reactions right now. Over-thinking causes anxiety. Currently, I’m simply in a no-longer-allowing-others-to-push-me-around mode.
I am, of course, very happy to see you back here. It’s true that anger isn’t necessarily a problem; it depends on what you do with that anger. And if you’re feeling more anger than usual, well … speaking as someone entering my fifth decade of living with a chronic illness, I find that my acceptance of the limitations it places on my life comes and goes. Like any big thing in life, I view my disease differently at different times and stages. It may be that you are entering a time of having to reevaluate things. (Or, of course, it may not. How would I know?)
Oh, I know the anger isn’t a problem. It’s the antipathy for things and people that follows in its wake that is the problem. 🙂
You are dead on about this being one of those times of having to reevaulate things. It helps more than you know to hear from you that your experience has been one of far-from-constant-acceptance. Because I’m really raging against certain aspects of this more than I used to. The social aspect is the worst one.
I’ve been kept from people for _nearly a year now_ by this, for one reason or another. And it enrages me.
I’m’a e-mail you about my latest thing. It’s not too lurid or anything to put on your blog, it’s just too stupid.