Is It Okay to Be Angry at God?
I find myself in the healthy side of anger. I want to feel something. I want to say something, anything. I want to revolt against what I see as the only option I have from my life as it is. That leaves me asking, is it wrong to be angry at God, to be angry at the universe? I know I’m not the first person to be asking this and I won’t be the last. The question stems from the healthy root of anger. The rage-full voice that wants to speak its opinion about the life it has to experience.
What is healthy anger? Is it a residual emotion from buried sadness and grief with an accompanied agitation of “why do I still have to feel this way?” Year after year, expectation after expectation, or even hope after hope, it’s anger’s voice of truth that wants to say all of the cynical negative shit she’s been feeling for years in the absence of the outcome she wanted.
It’s the moment she tells herself she feels miserable, but still has to act happy. I say call a spade a spade. Anger holds the full suit of spades in a royal flush, and she wants to call the universe’s bluff. Let her out of her cage. Let her speak her full truth and stand on her platform of passion. It’s her fire that lights the way and has potential to birth an amazing healthy amount of new creativity.
Anger results from 3 other main feelings:
- Being wronged
“Rose is Displeased, What to Do?”
This is not a mammoth moment from Titanic facing a sinking ship, this is the moment when the rose you hope’d would sprout, sticks its thorns back at you. It’s the heart angry about having to break. It’s the dream that feels like it will never come to fruition.
If you’re angry about what displeases you and you know it, be angry. It’s your anger. Healthy anger. Rage-full anger that wants a voice to say all the mean spirited shit she’s been holding on to for years. And of course it’s not directed at anyone in particular. Hell, I ain’t got time to add to my karma, the long list of spite against another. Anger is merely about my personal transgressions. The personal truths and experiences about the displeasurable parts of life that are lived.
“I Told You That I Didn’t Need You, Baby I Was Wrong”:
It’s the failed relationships that didn’t even bother to tell me why they had to leave. The dearly departed fucked off without so much as courtesy break up call. It’s the fact that I’m divorced supporting myself by working 12 hours a day at a job, not even counting the full hour of commute to and from. That leaves 11 hours left in my 24 hour day to eat a snack, shower, shit, shave, and sleep. I come home to an empty house, excuse me…an apartment… with one cat and there is no welcome home hug or back rub. All there is an echo of silence with a sink full of empty dishes and a dirty litter box with my name on it.
Believe you me…I know I am a spiritual person. I trust that and get that 100%. I enjoy being connected to myself and my feeling centered within myself and the life I have chosen to create, but I gotta say….some spiritual principles are really fucking me up.
I enjoy being an independent woman and I may say that I don’t need you, but baby, I was wrong…I miss the comfort of your warmth.
It’s Grief of The Idea, Dream Bigger and Think Bigger.
As I mentioned, I live in a small apartment on a beach with one gorgeous cat and I actually wouldn’t trade that for anything. I love that little fur ball, the one I call “my little nugget of sunshine and love” and his little sideway looks. And I know he loves me too, yet, I feel anti-climatic. Should I be wanting more? Should I be longing for more? It’s being scared that as I look at the road I’ve walked, it feels too long and too hard of a road to consider to myself lucky or worthy enough to deserve more.
We are taught to believe that the American pie in the sky is all about Manifest Destiny and creating the greatest expansion and outcomes for our lives. But, what if we don’t achieve it? What if I only ever manifest a life as a small, single woman in an apartment with one cat? I am not trying to Betty Crockeritize my life that I can cook up absolutely anything I want, I recognize an old fashioned hand-baked shit pie when I smell it. I want to believe in more than just airy-fairy dreams. I need real ideas and truths that actually have the capacity to pave the way to new realities from old longings.
Let me tell you, longing is a strong persistent nagging craving from something considered unattainable. No wonder I’m fucking angry, I am supposed to “dream bigger” and long for something I may possibly never get. That seems like spiritual torture and I’m not down for that.
How many years does it take before we are ready? How long does it take before we are able to actually manifest something? Well, again, let me tell you. I hold space for certain outcomes to manifest and year after year they have never come to fruition. Take having a boyfriend or partner for example. In a 10 year time frame that answer has been and continues to be, “No, not for you”. And now at the age of 43 after piles of vision boards and cut out scraps of magazines, I am supposed to believe that some great guy will want to be with me even though, any guy could go out and find himself a handful of women 10 years….hell 20 years younger than me and he’d still be totally okay. I’m the rotten cheese in this scenario and my shelf life: expired.
SO, am I to continue to hold the space for that manifestation knowing that after 10 + years, if and when someone does show up that it’ll be “different” than I expected? Pardon me universe, I know you’ll say that you’ll deliver better than I expected, if I just hold the faith, well…I feel it in my bones that it’ll hardly be better than I expected. I expected to at least be able to enjoy youthful sex again and now that I am perimenopausal, I don’t feel stimulated or sexy at all. I’m “#sorry, not sorry”. I am angry with you, UNIVERSE.
You ask me to let go, feel, release, change, grow, find my deepest part of center, learn who I am, move forward in the world, be autonomous and a unique individual, and surrender to the outcome of the “how” my life looks and then maybe, just maybe I’ll be ready for real love. You ask me to lie to myself that it’ll be the best thing I ever knew. I don’t believe you at all. It leaves my spiritual faith to speculate that perhaps anger comes from the ego, because universe, that part of me does NOT believe you.
Today, I find myself living in a void, an absence of joy. My entire world feels anti-climactic. The best I can do is feel tepid. Life has kicked the shit out of me and I surrender to the fact that it has no plans to provide anything optimistic or wonderful. I feel inflamed, the rush of extreme energy that wants to kick the shit out of someone in retribution and bash in a few windshields.
I want to slash 7 tires, one whole car worth and 3 on another in order to leave some poor asshole still hopeful about having one tire left in good standing. While I won’t actually do it, the vision of it leaves me laughing like the Cheshire Cat, testing the optimists of the world. How about now, can you hear me now? Can you hear my anger now? This is how it works, one angry person pays it forward to another when they feel life isn’t fair. Yes, Cary Elwes “Life is pain. Anyone who says differently is selling something.”
I leave you, and by proxy myself, with this final sentiment. I find it no accident that the most passionate feeling from writing this article is that of feeling “inflamed”. I forever and ever will be, an intuitive nurse and health optimist. I see, feel, and know that anger inflames every part of us, down to our subtle soft tissues. We must speak it and move it from our systems before it remains in our tissues as inflammation and inflammatory kinds of disease. It’s okay to feel it, just not to hold on to it.
It’s okay to be angry at the universe before it imbeds itself in your flesh. You have the power to chose to feel it and then move from it. Feel your anger, burn it out of you, move with the creativity it provides, and then let your Phoenix rise above the ashes and fire and break out the bullshit.