Anger is a really strange thing. Sometimes it persists in the crannys of one's psyche. You think it is all gone, but it just sits there, dessicated, waiting for the next rain of emotion to wash over it and it breathes back to life and strikes out. Eventually, it dries out again and waits. After a while, it just loses its identity and you become angry, but you don't know why.
Even more rarely, a kind of epiphanal catharsis happens and then the crannys get scoured and the stronger parts of the psyche crash together in a new configuration, just a few stones at a time. It can be kind of disorienting. NOW what do I feel like? Hmmmmm, I need to think about that.
Last night, I spoke to an old and dear roommate that I parted company with in the poorest of ways. It was like speaking to a lost part of my soul and made me think back to something TESS suggested. Tonight, because of that conversation, I feel more connected and much less angry. I feel the same from a conversation the night before where I felt love and loved and resolution and possibility. That is what I took from both conversations: possibility. That there is a future time to carry on and to resolve old stuff and new stuff and make MORE stuff and then shovel that. Sometime shovelling the stuff means really yummy tomatos!