There is such a thing as too much psychoanalysis. But I'll take whatever I can get.

I'll admit it. I don't know how to be angry.

No. That's not a noble "I'm this gentle hearted spirit that has never felt any ill will toward anyone" snow white cinderella crap. Shades of vibrant red have coated my eyes many, many times. I was just never taught what to do with it.

Unfortunately I'm one that has to heal over time, not thought. And so if you tire of me continually bringing up pent up issues I can assure you that I'm not making them up. I'm only asking for time, and layers, until they can finally be flicked away. And one of the stupid issues of mine that I have to allow to marinate until it deals with itself and becomes light enough to fly is the fact that I don't know how to be angry.

It's no one's fault. My father was never taught how to be angry either. He's been raised in a venue where any sign of anger could have toppled the delicate balance my grandfather had poorly constructed of himself, or triggered heavy consequences from psycho step mom 2 3 or 4. My dad grew up being blamed for a lot of things that weren't his fault. So any outward anger in my house seemed to look like blame rather than emotion. None of us were taught how to be angry.

But here's the thing.

Dad was never really taught how to have a stable home, either. He was never effectively taught how to love on his children until Dorothy came along (Grandpa certainly loved Daddy, he was just really bad at showing it sometimes). He could've been like my sister and ridden on his disfunctionality, flailing about on the waves and using it for an excuse. Instead he chose to be like my sister-in-law, and teach himself how to do the things he needed. He used the tools he was given--Grandpa instilled a love for metal and building things, and his mother left him memories of tenderness-- and relied on Christ to help him grow from there.

If he can do it, I can do it. With whatever tools I've been given.

And as aggravating as it is, I'll use time. and reliance. and whatever else my Lover throws at me.

I think I'm ready.