you don't know what ya got, til it's gone... anger, that is

my happy place, down by the river

One could argue that this post came on right about now because I'm on the precipice of an amazing experience, a trip that I've dreamed of for several decades, but I truly believe this one has been brewing for a while.

I've never shied away from sharing the fact that I've experienced anxiety and depression for most of my life. I don't think I had a name for any of it when I was a teen, but I would have said that I was overly emotional. As a young adult, I struggled with depression, but it wasn't until I was a new mom and thrust into a new life dominated by feelings of inadequacy and worry, alongside a baby who cried for most of the day and seemed perpetually dissatisfied, that I actually sought out help. Over the years, I've been on and off anti-depressants, and for the most part, the depression has stayed below the surface only showing its ugly face here and there, especially in the cold months. The anxiety remains my constant companion, but it's manageable, and I've developed coping skills that help me keep it from disrupting my daily life too much. But, a few years ago, another emotion began settling in, making itself comfortable right next to the depression and anxiety. And I'll tell you, anger became the worst one of all.

For me, the anger would come in bursts, and roll on in fast, like a summer storm. Even when I wasn't yelling, at least a moderate level of frustration and exasperation remained a constant. I could keep it pushed down most of the time, but I definitely blew up at times. Thankfully, the worst it would look like was yelling, but who wants to be the mom that's constantly yelling at her kids? It was utterly exhausting to feel angry so frequently.

Some months ago, I was in a situation in which I was hyper-frustrated, and I began to feel my stomach clench up, and I realized that I was biting my lower lip, all sensations that were regularly familiar not too long ago. In that moment it came to me-- I hadn't been feeling this way, for quite a while, in fact. I was able to breathe through the anger, stop and think about why I was feeling the way I was, and go through my options about the situation at hand. It eased shortly, and thankfully, the situation has improved since. But the biggest takeaway was that apparently, anger was no longer a normal feeling for me. Its appearance came with surprise. What a lovely realization.

It's been almost a year since our relocation, and our new setting and lifestyle most certainly has played a role in this dissipation. Aspects of my personal and family life have become much, much smoother in the last year, as well. I've faced one of my biggest fears, too, that of moving away from my comfort zone and my people and having to start again in a new place. I've made some delightful and now quite dear friends since last summer, and I'm not lonely like I dreaded. I feel like a part of my community, and I am contributing to it in small, but hopefully, meaningful ways.

Long story, short: I'm comfortable with my life.

Yes, a little white pill is still a part of my morning routine, and it likely will continue to be for the foreseeable future. I know that while it's not a cure-all, it's a necessary tool for me, and there is no shame in that in my book. But I'm thankful for the whole big picture of factors that has brought me to this current feeling of contentment, a time when a microburst of anger comes infrequently.

Inhale. Exhale. Repeat.