It comes to me this morning as I watch the pale clouded sky begin to brighten with a new day’s light that any anger I might feel is not a problem. My anger is a good sign, a sign that I have not given up the good fight against wrongful actions done by others that hurt me. Along with my anger about what hurt me comes my anger at a society that truthfully does not place a high value on infants and children and people and other living beings. We live in a sick materialistic mostly non-spiritual culture that is NOT healthy enough to care about what is truly important.
What I choose to do with and about my anger matters to me. Recognizing that I am angry is my first step. I was thinking about a rose thorn embedded in my right pointer finger. I have been ignoring it since efforts to remove it have thus far failed. This spot on my finger has turned into what I know could be called an ‘angry wound’. (As small and inconsequential as this injury is, it at least allowed me to recognize a bigger picture.)
Survivors of human-caused abusive traumas are often left with angry wounds. In the case of infant-child abuse, society contributes to the abuse by not caring enough to notice when it happens, not caring enough to adequately intervene, and by not caring enough as a society to provide the MEDICINE that is needed to help heal the angry wounds carried by survivors.
I turned to my first aid kit this morning for a home remedy salve made for me by a New Mexican sheep rancher’s wife 15 years ago. The salve is on my finger now, held in place by a simple item known as a band aid. It isn’t the band aid that is going to draw the infection out of my injury. It is this stinky medicine that will both draw the infection and the thorn itself to the surface so that my finger can heal.
I am reminded that I live now in the same uncaring society that allowed those 18 years of severe abuse to happen to me in the first place. This sick society has not changed. This is the same society that contributed its share to the injuries from the abuse I suffered in the first place. It is the same sick society that does not provide for trauma abuse survivors the kind of care toward healing that would be required to heal these deep angry wounds. I – and most other survivors — are left as alone in trying to heal our deep wounds as we were left alone to survive them in the first place.
I work to turn my anger at injustice into understanding based on truth and fact. I work to ground my reality in the bigger picture of an evolving humanity that is still a long way from its maturity. I will bide my time in this lifetime, but I will not live long enough to see the dawning of a truly healthy, spiritual united humanity that understands under God that we are to love and care for one another and for all life as if well-being for all is what truly matters.
In the bigger picture none of us actually live in our body on this earth for very long, and when our soul’s connection with this material world is severed and when our soul then travels to the infinite other worlds of Creation, all will be held accountable to God. I am no more an exception to this fact that my abusive mother was. Through her sickness Mother contributed a great deal of harm. I am grateful that I do not have her sickness. I can choose to contribute something good. And if part of that goodness involves anger against actions that are evil and hurt innocents, so be it.