How to be angry without ruining your life
A handwritten permission slip for moving through anger
I’ve been thinking a lot about anger lately. I’m angrier than I’ve ever been.
Anger is not an easy emotion for me to deal with. I’d prefer not to feel it. I’ve spent my life perfecting ways not to. Ways to make my anger acceptable in the face of the unacceptable. And I’ve been rewarded for them. Most women are.
Most mornings I write by hand—two, three pages, sometimes more. At the white hot peak of my anger I wrote this down in my notebook. I wrote it to give myself a safe way to be angry without eating myself alive or laying waste to my life.
Maybe it’s a how-to. Maybe it’s a ritual. Maybe it’s a permission slip.
Permission to be angry. Permission to not be so happy and composed and have it all together all the fucking time.
The world is far from perfect. Why should I be?
I don’t know if you need this. I don’t know if you’re angry. Actually, I would be surprised if you aren’t. Have you seen the world lately? Maybe I’m the one who’s late to the party. Maybe you’ve been angry for a long time, and I’ve finally caught up. I’m always late to everything. I’m Filipino, we’re always on island time.
But I wrote this. By hand. Maybe you could use it. I sure did. Tell me if you do, too.
I’ve always loved writing by hand, and I always will.
Lately I realized how much of my writing is done by hand, but is kept private. It made me wonder: is what’s messy less worthy of sharing? Is my writing less valid, less polished, less palatable if it is produced by hand versus processed by a machine?
If you have thoughts on handwriting, are a fan of the handwritten, need a lot of hand-holding to get angry, or are really just fucking angry, tell me. Subscribe, hit the reply button, write me an email, leave a comment, send me your meticulously curated playlists of rage. You know I love hearing from you.