I’ve had a gloomy and complicated August. And if I had written this post yesterday, it would have been all about how angry I am. Angry at politicians, angry at the public with knee-jerk reactions. Angry at the American election campaign and the ridiculous comments that have been “misspoken” as part of that, angry at the use of the word “misspoken” which really means either “I lied” or “I am stupid.” Yes, I’ve been angry.
I’ve been angry that here in 2012, women are still not seen or respected as equals – not in business, not in making decisions about their own body, not in a myriad of ways that are usually unspoken but yet still blatant. I’ve been so angry at that that I can’t watch Madmen. I’ve been angry at the lack of professionalism of an organisation I’ve been associated with for many years, at deceit and churlishness. I’ve been angry at arrogant and haughty people, who think they seem more important if they treat others badly and without respect. I’ve been angry at being taken for granted, for a lack of appreciation. I’ve been angry at the loss of what has previously been a very safe place, and a big part of my life. I’ve been angry at disrespectful and self-centred people. I’ve been angry at seeing the harsh results of aging, in those I love, and (in a so far much lesser way) in the mirror. I’ve been angry at my bank account, and angry (but unrepentant) about my extravagances. I’ve been angry at everyone, and angry at myself. I’ve been angry.
But oh, what a difference a day makes. How can I continue to be so angry when the day dawns bright and sparkling, when the harbour is calm and shiny, when the yachts are reflected on the water, and the colourful boat-houses look positively joyous on this the last day of winter? How can I be angry when the bay is full of kayakers, the footpath is full of people, of all ages and all mobilities, out enjoying the sun? How can I be angry when I can sit in the sunshine without worrying about sunburn, when I can discard my winter coat, when the coffee tastes so good? How can I feel angry when I feel fatigued but strong (and virtuous) after a tough workout, when I can see the improvement of a solid few months working out without breaks for illness or general malaise, when my haircut looks good? How can I feel angry when I hear the tui chirping in the trees welcoming me home, when it is Friday afternoon, and when tomorrow it is officially spring?
I guess I’m not angry anymore.