Sacred Rage

A few weeks ago I had an experience that brought greater awareness to something I thought I had under total control. My experience opened the floodgates for an outpouring of the very thing I had been spending so much energy on quieting... Rage. I didn’t realize I had so much rage pinned up on the inside of me. Almost a lifetime of stuffing and silencing’s worth. All along I thought I was being a good little girl expressing my feelings in “healthy” ways, but healthy for who? My rapist? My parents? Friends? Siblings? Partners? Society at large?

Rage is not to be stuffed or shunned. Rage is a great communicator, here to show us when things have gone too far, when an injustice has gone on for far too long. Rage builds up over time as we ignore our deepest desires, instead settling for what society tells us must be. We feel rage when our truth is ignored and we participate in a system of “just the way it is” rather than telling our stories and aligning with people that honor our truth.

Rage is a teacher, a tool. It guides us toward what we really want. It shows us where we are selling ourselves short. It shines a light on the injustices of society. Rage can’t be caged. We can’t put it in a pretty dress and slap a smile on its face and expect it to go away. When rage is stuffed and ignored it will come back and with a vengeance.

I learned this first hand. I’ve tried to bite my tongue on so many occasions that I’ve lost count. I’ve turned to breathwork and yoga, exercising and oils when I should have been screaming, crying, beating (a pillow or punching bag of course). See, trying to breathe my rage away was really just an opportunity for me to ignore it, pushing it out of the way so I could remain in control. My EMDR therapist put it nicely when she said in an attempt to control my actions I also controlled my feelings; by not allowing myself to express the rage I didn’t allow myself to feel or process it either. I created an environment akin to a pressure cooker without even knowing what I was doing. Then, one day not too long ago the pressure got so high that it exploded. I exploded.

Ironically, the aftermath didn’t feel as terrible as I thought it would. I suspect this is because 1) it felt really great to release all that anger and rage I’d been spending my energy controlling and 2) exploding allowed me to see that I had been stuffing my emotions away rather than dealing with and releasing them along the way. Two epiphanies that I think will be life changing.

Since the first explosion there have been a couple more, although with less intensity. My family now regularly finds me screaming as part of my meditation ceremony, yelling into pillows, and beating the shit out of my bed. I’m considering investing in a punching bag to kick and beat... maybe even with a baseball bat. That sounds like a good release! I’ve also been day dreaming about breaking shit just because. The idea of throwing dishes to the ground or demolishing an entire room of breakables (some cities offer demolition rooms for this purpose) feels like it would be oh so therapeutic. My point is, we have to release and it can be done in healthy ways. We each just have to find ours and make sure that we’re actually releasing, not just controlling or avoiding.

I encourage you to get in touch with your rage. Write the shit that bothers you. Yell into the mountains. Run. Go to town on a punching bag. Take big forceful exhales. Make animalistic noises. Find a modality or two that works for you and allow your rage to move through you and out. Then, get curious. Ask yourself what all this rage is about and take action if and how you feel divinely led.

Big love and take care!