by tracybanaszynski

I was angry. I was angry because it was noon and he was not sleeping. I was angry because it was noon and he was not sleeping and we had had a failed nap attempt two hours earlier. I was angry because I had not showered in a week. I was angry because my husband had lately been coming home from work at or after bedtime. I was angry because in addition to leaving me and H for work during the week my husband had found reasons to leave us on the weekends. I was angry because most of my husband’s reasons for leaving us on the weekends were reasonable. I was angry because I had been getting out of bed with sore nipples in the morning because there had been so much nursing at night. I was angry because my husband and I had argued about photocopies. I was angry because my husband and I had argued about photocopies but we were really arguing about something else. I was angry because I was not sure what that something else we had been arguing about was. I was angry because I did not know how to talk to my husband about the undefined thing we had been arguing about when we argued about photocopies. I was angry because there was no one to take over the nap. I was angry because I felt like it was all up to me. I was angry because I was angry. I was angry because I was angry and I could not just stop being angry.

And then I surrendered. I curled around H, feeling the rise and fall of his rib cage and the warmth of his body against mine. “I am home,” I thought. “This is where I am meant to be.” My breathing slowed. I got very still. I laid there feeling the full weight and discomfort of my anger. I could feel that I had hardened around it. I worked on softening around it instead. I could feel that I wanted to look away from it. I worked on staying present with it instead. I could feel my mind justifying the angry thoughts. I worked on letting go of the need to have ground under my feet. I wanted resolution, for something external to change so that I did not have to feel angry anymore. I worked on accepting the anger as my own and a choice that I had made.

And then just as suddenly as they had come, the angry thoughts were gone.

I am in the thick of this practice. I do not know how far I have come or where I am exactly. It often feels as if I am fumbling around with my eyes closed in the pitch black of night. And yet I keep at it. I keep at it for myself, I keep at it for H, and I embrace one thing I do know. Things arise and fall away, again and again, and all there is to do is make room for it all, even the uncomfortable anger.

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