Some part of myself is assuring me that I will not be able to publish books that contain my TRUTH without having to find – for the first time in my entire life — what my rage feels like. This involves me becoming absolutely clear about WHO/WHAT am I REALLY ANGRY at?
Last week I thought for awhile that the beginning of my preface on this upcoming book to be published would be about the day around the 4th of July, 1977 that my baby sister (she was 21, I was 25) rode a bus from Edmonton, Alberta to my home in northern Minnesota (2 weeks before her delivery date for her firstborn). I was going to mention at the start that when she said to me, “If you are not very, very angry at Mother for the things she did to you when you were growing up there is something REALLY REALLY wrong with you!” – I had absolutely no reaction.
I did not respond to her — etc — but I was most certainly NOT angry with Mother – so therefore I guessed there indeed MUST be something wrong with me.
During all the years of therapy, recovery, research, etc etc etc that I have gone through since that day – I have NEVER felt angry at Mother.
That’s all part of my story – whereas TODAY – and yesterday – and the day before that I am feeling the rising of my rage as if it were a Tsunami coming.
I HATE RAGE – but so what. In the interest of finally finding my own truth – so I can get this business done of publishing books – I am saying, “BRING IT ON!!”
As of TODAY – I am quite singularly ENRAGED at the entire HUMAN RACE – well, at least those of my culture – which are the only ones I have ever been in interaction with.
Yesterday – as this rage-finding mission moves forward – I realized that because no human being ever took an interest in me or in my well-being during the first 18 years of my life in hell — NO WONDER I loved the Alaskan wilderness.
Humans were the LAST thing I needed. My life taught me that!
Humans are the LAST thing the wilderness needs.
No wonder the wilderness and I were such friends, had so much in common, shared implicit understanding of what LIFE was really about.
Humans. Pitiful social connection seeking pandering pitiful (did I mention that?) – selfish persuadable useless parasites upon the earth?
What do I know?
But it is illogical to me that I will continue to track the scent of my rage without entering parts of my being that have NOTHING good to say about humans.
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