Anger

I think I have anger issues.

Even as I write this, it just seems weird. I am a happy person. I love to laugh. I am a people pleaser. I like to see other people around me happy. But to that end, I often get angry about things and never tell people. And that, my friends, is not a good way to live.

My anger outlet: sports. I regularly swear during softball (which, btw, is a church league). I get pissed off if I strike out, miss a ball, or make a bad play. And this is not the kind of angry that leaves easily. It definately penetrates the entire game. Even when I was in high school I became a completely different person when I played sports. The caring nice Megan flew out the window in favor of elbow jabs and jockeying for position on the basketball court.

And, really, it is not as if I am that upset over the game. Part of it is the fact that I may be doing poorly, or the team as a whole is losing. But there is something deeper there. The rage is boiling, not from the heat of the game, but from something deeper that simmers under my lid every day. I carry it around under wraps, only to unleash when a step onto the field or the court.



Ouch. Watching this hurts. It hurts because it is true. I am looking for a fight because I haven't already joined a big beautiful fight that can change this world.

So even though I may save the rage and anger for the softball field, it is not enough. Being generally happy and nice to people is not enough. I need to be angry and enraged about the things that matter. About health care and AIDS and orphans and widows and children who feel no love. It is not enough to put on a happy face and let the anger out during sports. I need to realign, readjust and let the anger come out in strangely beautiful ways. Like building houses for those who have none. Helping the single mom do yardwork. Visiting the kids at the neighborhood center. Microfinancing in Burundi. Because if the anger has to go somewhere, it might as well veer towards hope.