From Rage to Love

Rage n. Furious intensity, as of a storm or disease. 

It used to amuse people when I told them my motivation to succeed was spite and rage. The sad part is that it was true. When I was told that I was nothing, that I was and never would be good enough,  the anger continued to grow and I strove to be the best in everything. For some time it worked - but a person can only carry on like that for so long. It's a cancer that can eat one alive.

The rage began when I was a young girl and my father died. It grew and evolved with every painful event that followed after: my mother's rejection, the death of my grandmother and the abandonment of anyone that had ever mattered to me. I was alone in life and I knew it. Anger was all I had to keep me going and I let it take over.

This is a pretty good representation. Did I mention I was constantly getting into fights as a wee lass? I was sending the world a message: don't f@#! with me or I'll kill you with my fury. 

The turning point began about a year and a half ago. It had been six months after I experienced something that I was naive enough to think that it couldn't possibly happen to me again. I don't remember why I was in Beaverton and just happened to stumble upon one of those New Age / Pagan shops. I do remember that I was extremely upset over someone's words that were spoken out of cruelty. I was still trying to recover from what happened and couldn't handle such harshness from someone I trusted.

Perhaps it was a divine intervention. Whatever it was, the encounter I had in that shop started me on a path that moved me from anger.

I can't even remember if I walked through the door - perhaps I stumbled through it. I could barely speak. I knew from the instant the store clerk spoke to me that he was gay, which was a very good thing because if it had been a straight male I probably would have ran out. There was no one else in the store, so he came out from behind the counter and hugged me. He held me until I stopped crying.

This is pretty much what happened

When I was finally able to form words with my mouth, I told him what had happened and that I had experienced it for many years as a child. I was furious that it happened again and I didn't even see it coming. He squeezed me tighter and told me that I had to forgive myself first and then I'd be able to move towards compassion for me and others. He also told me that I needed to give myself time to grieve. This was the beginning of healing my spirit. Countless therapists tried working on my mind, as if this alone would fix everything - that just wasn't the answer.

I didn't even get his name. What he gave me is priceless. It took me a while to get here, but I have arrived and I'm bursting with the purest form of joy. Just when I think I couldn't be any happier, the universe sends something else my way. I am beautifully aware of every waking moment and experiencing things in life that I never knew existed. My words don't do it justice, really.

It's not only happiness. I still find myself grieving for the injustices others experience, but it's not overwhelming anymore and all I want to do is work harder to change it for them. This is my new motivation: making an impact for the better. While I've accepted that I can't possibly do it all, I hope someday I can see a change for the greater good and perhaps in the next life I will have the ability to do it all.

Someday I hope to run into the guy in the Beaverton store just so I can tell him how thankful I am. He held me until I stopped  sobbing and shaking and pointed me towards a path of healing. His kindness and genuine concern was moving. I've learned to forgive, I've learned to love and I've also learned to trust again. The one encounter I had with him helped me get here.

The end result is my newly found joy in belly dancing. I'd practiced it for a year and a half before I set it down because I was too consumed by anger and grief to continue. I've picked it up again with new fervor and strive for perfection . . . and then there are times when I do it strictly for fun not paying attention to technique whatsoever simply because it makes me happy.

Emotionally, physically, spiritually . . . one of the most beautiful things. 

While in Seattle I attempted a run . . . well, I did run. What struck me is that I usually channel rage to push myself. I wasn't able to do it - not even when I put on a set of music that has traditionally worked me into a frenzy. There was no anger to channel - just me giving myself a pep talk to keep running up those hills. I can't recall a time when there has never been even a subtle anger underneath the surface.

I ran into an old friend last night. She hadn't seen me in a few years. She couldn't put her finger on what had changed, but could only say that I looked beautiful to her. I know the answer - it's this immense happiness that continues to overflow in my life. 

I find something else occurring in my life as well. He came back. I love him. I love him and if he doesn't know that by now he's an oblivious fool. I am ecstatic and afraid at the same time. I take in every moment with him because they are precious to me. When he left for a retreat a couple of weeks ago I found myself counting down the days until his return . . . and then I laughed at myself because I'm usually counting down the days until I can be away from someone.

These moments with him, this state of constant joy with life that continues to amaze me - they are very dear to me and I hold them close. I always will.

He is such a beautiful person

"Your task is not to seek for love, but merely to seek and find all the barriers within yourself that you have built against it."  ~ Rumi