Reflections on Anger

Anger. You know, that tightness that starts with a lurch of the stomach and claws its way up your chest. The glinting eyes, pursed lips, and flared nostrils. Hands that ball into fists, fingernails digging into fleshy palm. The lump in your throat that prohibits you from talking, because you know if you do, you'll spray a vulgar, biting venom that's best left locked in a leak-proof box somewhere near your kidneys.

I hate being angry. I just really, really don't like it. Luckily, I don't get angry easily. There are only a few times in my life that I can remember being really, truly angry to the point where I burst and spewed that venom like a wild banchee. My brothers used to be able to make me angry to the point of screaming, slamming doors, and sobbing in my room for an hour. (The biggest problem is that they both enjoy the sport of argumentation. Me...not so much.) The only other time I remember getting that angry was in high school. I was sitting at the lunch table with a group of friends who I had come to realize talked behind each other's backs incessantly. One of them said something (jokingly) to another one's face, and I blew up. "CAN'T YOU GUYS JUST BE NICE TO EACH OTHER FOR A CHANGE?!?" I proceeded to get up from the table and stalk away, leaving behind a very shocked group of teenagers. ("Have you ever heard Laura yell before?" "No way, not like that." "Wow. What's up with her? She never gets mad.") I ate lunch in the band room instrument storage closet that day.

Up until last week, that was the last time I remember being really angry over something. To be honest, I knew that this fit of anger was coming. I had felt the annoyances and frustrations building up for months. I had hoped to contain it as just that, though: a feeling of annoyance and frustration, but not full-blown anger. But then something happened that just threw all inhibitions to the wind, and I got angry. I won't go into details, since this is a public forum, but basically I had had enough of a certain person's complete lack of responsibility and consideration for other people. This individual continually put things off and avoided problems they had created, causing issues for everyone around them and never bothering to say, "Hey, I'm sorry. My bad, I should have done that sooner." Instead, this person just blamed everything on other people (read: me). It wasn't the incident itself that so upset me. It was absence of any sort of consideration of other people's time, feelings, and schedules, as well as blatant lies told to cover up their fault.

But I digress. I got angry. I didn't blow up this time, as that would have been inappropriate given the circumstances, but I did fume. Everyone else who saw me knew I was spitting mad and stayed far away. I vented to family and friends, and eventually got over it. But one thing kept running through my mind: I really hate being angry.

I like to think of myself as a very laid back, easy-going kind of girl. It takes a lot to phase me to the point of agitation, and I get along with just about everyone. So if you succeed in getting me angry (other than my brothers, because that's just a sibling's prerogative {huh, never knew that had two "r"s}), you had to have done something pretty extensively anger-worthy. I don't like the unbalanced, irrational feeling of being angry. I think there's probably a good reason the word "mad" has a double entendre: anger often leads to a feeling of insanity. And that's just no fun. Also, getting angry accomplishes nothing. A friend told me today that a little anger is a good thing, because it protects your sense of injustice, which is an important aspect of anyone's well-being: no one wants to be a pushover doormat. While I see her point, I think frustration can take care of that, without resorting to full-blown anger. Anger will only lead to regrets. (Crimes of passion, anyone?)

So I guess my point to all of this is it's important to stay happy and calm. Anger is pointless and makes you feel bad. Whatever caused the anger in the first place will dissipate with a positive attitude and a relativity check. (In the long run, does it really matter that this person thinks my shirt is ugly?)

Stay happy, friends.

Robin Hood Ethics

When you're young, ethical behavior was black and white: stealing - bad; God - good; swearing - bad; helping others - good; homosexuality - bad; church - good; abortion - bad; priests - good. Our elders tell us what is bad and what is good, and we believe them. Because they are our elders, so of course they're right. We take it all for face value and move on with our lives.

But what happens when our brains develop enough to where we can begin thinking for ourselves? When "Robin Hood" ethics take over: when stealing from the rich and giving it to those who have nothing might not be so bad after all? What happens when your friends and cousin are gay? When your brothers and best friends don't go to church? When your teachers and those you look up to don't believe in God and priests are caught doing horrible things? Suddenly we no longer have our black-and-white childhood to fall back on. Everything is a varied shade of gray: some things still almost completely black and others mostly white, but nothing is absolute in its ethical standing, and more often than not, things are a dreary, confusing shade of gray, right in the middle of black and white, bad and good. What do we do then?

For some people this moment never seems to come. They continue on with their childhood ethics system, either because they are miraculously blessed with immediate communication with God or because their system was never tested or they just blind themselves to the tests and obstinately insist that they are right and there is no need to even think about where they may be wrong. In some ways I envy these people. I miss knowing right away what is right and what is wrong. When people ask me what I believe, I'd like to be able to tell them: A is good, B is bad, C is unspeakable. But I can't, because the fact is I don't know what I believe, and it's all Robin Hood's fault.

He's made me think about things. He's introduced me to different viewpoints and new ideas; different ways of thinking. And some of them make a whole lot of sense, even though they are sometimes polar opposites of what I was raised to think in my black and white world. Jewish law says abortion is not only legal, but sometimes it is legally mandated. Because the Jews believe that life begins with the first breath, since Adam was created when God breathed the breath of life into him. So until that baby is born, it is important, but not as important as the mother's life, because she is already breathing. So if the mother's life is in jeopardy, the pregnancy must be terminated, according to Jewish law. In general, I agree that abortion is bad. But sometimes, there may be circumstances where it is necessary, or at least something to consider. What if a single mother with three children is raped, and giving birth to the rapist's child will result in complications that will kill her, sending her three living children into a fatally flawed foster care system which will turn them out at the age of 18 to fend for themselves, perhaps even before they've graduated from high school? Are the unborn baby's rights greater than those of the mother and her three children?

To some extent, I can see the importance of bringing the abortion debate into politics, even though it is a largely moral issue. If you believe that personhood begins at conception, then it is important to stand up for the unborn child's rights. I am not denying that, and to some extent I sympathize with it. But things like homosexuality--whether you believe it's right or wrong, it's not hurting anyone. What happened to Jesus's teaching: "Let the one among you who is free from sin throw the first stone." If it is a sin, (and I'm not convinced it is, personally), then that is between that person and God. But what about the sanctity of marriage and the family, some people ask. I don't know. I'm not that worried about it. Maybe I should be, but I'm not. I think that within the Church, it isn't an issue. They will never allow gay marriage (and I'm not saying they should, either.) But as far as homosexuals having the same rights and privileges in the political world, I see no harm.

I guess the moral (no pun intended) of all of this, is that I am helplessly lost and confused about what is right and what is wrong. I have some convictions, but they are far from concrete.  And actually, I'm not sure that I would have it any other way. Because despite the confusion and frustration, I think it is generally a good thing to be open to different ideas and ways of thinking. Once you're "sure" about something, you fall into the closed-minded ways that allowed slavery and other racially or socio-economically motivated injustices to take such widespread control of today's societies. I hope I never fall into that trap.

And yet, I wish I knew where I stood. Is it wrong to be too open minded? Am I overcompensating for my uncertainties and "sinning" in ways that I should know better than to do? Am I becoming too defensive and closed minded against the Church, when I really only want to remain a little bit distanced, a little bit unsure? Has Robin Hood taken too complete a hold on my ethics, to the point where I'm sliding too far the other way? Am I a God-forsaken liberal Commie, as I've been told? I like to think I'm not. But really, who knows?