Rage and an Angel

The rage that lies deep within me is not something that I am a stranger to, nor something I talk much about or am proud of. It was a crutch in my youth to aid my walk through life with all the turmoil that surrounded me. It is a rage that has laid in waiting, suppressed, deep seated and unequivocal to any anger or rage that would be considered normal in this day and age. To help me through that rage, and to help me understand it, I began to get help (all in my youth) in the form of anger management, counseling, and by way of the justice system; in the form of kickboxing. Rage is something we all live with, be it road rage, parking lot rage, joggers rage, or rage at the pickle jar that we can’t get into. We all deal with that rage in different ways. My rage has remained dormant for so many years. Remember that I said it was something that I dealt with in my youth and had suppressed and moved away from. Through the process, I acquired new tools to deal with it. I learned that you could be productive in the way you used your fists. You could step into a ring and do it right! You could step into a ring where your opponent was willing and able to give you back what you dished out, ounce for ounce, blow for blow. I found peace through my fists, feet, elbows, and knees.

As the months turned to weeks, then years, I faced those demons less and less. I had all but forgotten they were there. When my life was turned upside down on April 15th of this year those demons still remained deep inside, replaced by an unexplainable sadness and sense of loss. I couldn’t put my gloves on and step into a ring to fight back. I could not slowly stock my enemy and wear him down, methodically taking away the steam that pushed him forward. Each kick, each punch, each elbow, slowly chipping away at the incoming rage from the opponent. Chin low, hands up, constantly moving to avoid the next onslaught of blows. A strange sense of calmness and familiarity washes over your body as you step into a fight in the ring. A grounded sensation touches your soul and you see the work that lies ahead as you assess who is standing there in front of you. All the sounds around you slowly fade away and you feel the rampage begin to surface from deep below. You know that the rage will slowly take control and that is the way it is to be. That is the way of the warrior. Hold the rage until you need it, then release it, but always remain in control of it. Know when to let it fly and know that you must reinforce it with critical thinking and decisiveness. All of this was absent on that night when my life changed. I had no tools, nothing to fight back with, what was taken was done behind closed doors…out of the ring, cowardly and callous. At that point there was no opponent that I knew of other than myself. I stood there defeated. Unable to face my opponent. Unable to take my life’s training and utilize it to my benefit. At that time, the only opponent I had was the truth. Like my aforementioned demons, this opponent would prove to be resilient, deceiving, and hiding in the shadows, yet I had to do what I knew best – fight!

Today, six weeks later I step from that ring with my head held high. My arms by my side, shoulders slumped from the tireless fight, but my heart risen in victory. Victory in knowing that the truth truly will set you free. The victory of TRULY forgiving and once again releasing that rage. The fight has not been an easy one. I was unfortunate enough to run into (recently) the enemy that hid in the shadows. I had since forgiven all, but that deep seated rage came to the surface like a volcano erupting, bursting with energy ready to surface and erupt into the world. Suddenly I was tossed back into a ring that I had stayed away from for so long. The real ring, the real thing! The one where people can be hurt and lives can be changed forever. Not unlike the ring I battled in for the past 6 weeks, yet more real, tangible, and dangerous. I snapped and the tunnel vision slowly drew closer. I fought the feelings, I paced to and fro, and I tried to shake it off. Nothing worked. I wanted this bout. I deserved this bout. Regardless of forgiveness, justification was evident. Those around me were seeing something, someone, they had never seen. Many were in tears, some were scared, some just wanted to leave, yet they all stayed. They stayed in my corner and they tried to hold those demons down. Like a drug coursing through my veins, the rampage was there, pulsating and working its way to the surface. I began to shut down and focus. Stare at my opponent, methodically plan, slow my breathing, clenched fists and feet tamping..ready to fly. Nothing was working. No one was stopping this. Words were being spoken, yet I did not hear, hugs being given, but I did not feel. All I felt was my world, my fight.

Then I walked out. I’m not sure if it was a momentary return to reason, something someone said, or if someone dragged me out, but I left. Did I feel release? No way. More anger! I wanted back in the ring. Back at it. I wanted the warriors way! I deserved this “chance”. So we continued on down the street, me in my rage, my friends in their daze. No street light, no siren, no rumbling Harley could take my focus from my intended task. Then it happened – I was carrying something for someone I had yet the privilege of getting to know, and when we got to her car, she just wrapped her arms around me and it all came crashing down. All my defenses, all the surging anger, all the weeks of turmoil and angst. The mountain of rage below me slowly came crashing down, cascading down like a sudden avalanche. My pulse slowed, my muscles relaxed, and my tachycardic heart returned to a place of balance. I HAVE NEVER felt such a release. Few words exchanged, just a gentle touch and an overwhelming sense of goodness. Through our tears, through the darkness of the night, I looked into the eyes of an angel. Blue as the sky after a storm. Gentle, caring, and overwhelmingly peaceful. My world was coming back. The tunnel was slowly pulling back. The heat radiating from within, through my skin, was gone; I could feel the cool night’s air. I felt uplifted, free of rage, free of anger. Lifted and comforted in the arms of a blue eyed angel. One in whom I will always feel indebted and comforted.

After any good fight a true and noble warrior will thank those who made the battle possible. I would not be here writing this had it not been for the following people, and so many more that I am sure I will forget to mention, instead I would likely be locked in a cage for quite some time: Julie who has been my comrade in arms through this journey and who continually encourages me: Neil and Linda who have opened their hearts and doors for me: Neil who stood there like a warrior in his own right to prevent, as best he could, what was to come: Erick and Molly who also have opened their hearts and home to me and who saw a little bit of El Diablo that night: Leah, you are just too darn easy to talk too. The Oakies: welcome to Durango huh?! Sean, your words on the walk back and on the deck were a true testament to your character: Ash, you came to the rescue when the rescue was needed and I will forever be grateful. To your friend you brought with you….you obviously understood where I was at and what I needed to do: To the Angel of Calmness and Peace: there just aren’t words. You know who you are and I won’t name you here for fear that you “won’t talk to me for a week”. You exude a sense of peace that draws people to you and brings comfort to those in turmoil. Our talks since have reassured me that I wasn’t imagining things that evening. When you wrapped your arms around me and cried with me…I knew I felt wings on your shoulders. Last but not least: to J & S – my forgiveness is genuine and utterly unabashed. I will not apologize for what happened. It is what it is. I am happy that you two have the chance to find happiness again and I truly wish you the best. I hope that we can one day walk by one another and smile and hold out a hand in mutual respect. All my best to you.