Rage overcomes everything else. It swells up from some inner corner of my mind and overwhelms all my other senses. I can be sad, happy, excited, disappointed, frustrated, content or even just a bland nothing. It doesn’t matter because when that rage hits, it wipes my mind clear and everything else might as never have been there – like a tsunami hitting the coast, it storms through my body and pushes everything else to the periphery. Sometimes its aimed outward – at the person who didn’t give up their seat to the old woman struggling with her groceries or the colleague who failed to do their part of the work. Sometimes its aimed inward – at myself for not getting enough done or for doing something wrong. When it hits, I suggest you turn and run. Run fast. Run far. Because I know no mercy when the rage peaks.
But I don’t let it define me. I know that it is only a smaller portion of what makes up the complex thing that is ‘me.’ And what’s more, I can use that rage. It is a fight and a struggle but if I can grab hold of it and aim it at a concrete, good goal – nothing can stop me. With that energy and fight, I can do anything. That energy knows no limits or hesitations. It doesn’t get exhausted with time nor frustrated by obstacles. It is determination to the extreme. It is a rush forward that cannot be controlled which can be scary when it takes aim at the wrong thing. But if I can harness it to a generative goal, then there is no way to impede my development.
It doesn’t define me. But it can act to motivate me. My ability to control it, instead of it controlling me, that defines me more than rage does. This self-control took years to culture and years to strengthen to the extent that it can now win the fight against my rage. Of course, it doesn’t always prevail and sometimes rage wins the battle. But at the end of the day, I like to think I’m winning the war.