I have lately come to find myself in possession of a large amount of latent anger. I don’t think my possession is the thing which I have lately come to have, but rather my perception of my own anger. My tone of voice, and my thoughts, all betray some anger I don’t ever know that I have realized.
I am pretty sure I have been angry for a long time, but I’m not entirely sure what for.
I mean, shit has happened in my life. Things that–while A) entirely the product of my own behavior, B) consequences I feel that I should have faced, and C) nowhere near as bad of situations as they could have been–I don’t think were fair. I often get after my generation for assuming that our lives should be fair. We were born into a cohort which has been saturated with an entitlement to an easy life, when our parents and parents’ parents worked hard to put us in this position. The difficulties they faced in their lives were meant to make ours easier, and rather than appreciating that, we often complain that life isn’t easy enough.
“I don’t have the perfect relationship,” or “I can’t find anyone who wants me.”
“I can’t seem to figure out what I want to do,” or “my job is too hard.”
“This shouldn’t be so hard,” or “why isn’t this as simple/easy/meaningful as it used to be?”
But as I said, I often scoff, shame, and guilt my peers when they express these sentiments, though I think I must feel the same way inside. If I didn’t, I doubt I would be as hostile as I am. It may not be a causal relationship, but I have no doubt that my own perception of injustice in my life doesn’t endear my fate to be a happy one.
Maybe my life hasn’t been fair (though in fact facing the justifiable consequences of my own behavior is entirely fair, it’s just facing consequences that most of my peers haven’t had to face for the same behaviors that makes me resent them), but being a bitch about it isn’t going to help me either.
This is going to be an exploration for a while.