My Rage Keeps Raging On
Will it help if I put it all on the page?
I haven’t been in a good mood lately.
Who am I kidding? That is a massive understatement. I’ve been in a terrible mood.
You probably know what I am talking about if you read my previous post, where I wrote about my frustration with my lack of a career and my anxiety about the financial precarity that is a constant undercurrent in my life.
Unlike anything I have put up on here before, I wrote that post in one sitting and barely edited it. I wanted to let the anger I felt at myself, my choices, and the whole goddamn existence show through in all its rawness.
As a matter of fact, that post has been brewing in my head even before I was anywhere near my computer. It took shape as I was walking the streets of Liverpool, where I was on holiday. I was supposed to be having fun, but I wasn’t enjoying myself one bit. The same thoughts and the same emotions have been running through my head all fucking day. After a certain point, I couldn’t take it any longer, so I rushed back to my hotel room, and as soon as I got in, I fired up my computer and tried to let it all out.
Honestly, I don’t know why I did it. I may not have put the post up. But I did. Maybe it was a cry for help or connection. Maybe I thought that if I got it off my chest, it would make me feel better, that if I shared my experience in all its rawness, my pain would ease a little bit.
It did not.
Fast forward to today, and my self-rage continues to rage on. To be honest, this one is new for me, too. Usually, whenever I feel this way, my feelings will eventually subside in a couple of days.
Not this time.
It’s been almost a week since I put up that post, but the anger, the rage, keeps its vice grip on me. I cannot let it go, no matter how much I try. It comes in waves, and when the wave is surging, I feel such a strong urge to lash out at anything or anyone that it takes all my mental energy just to keep still and not do anything that I would regret later on.
And the more frustrating thing is, I cannot put a finger on what is triggering these feelings. I keep going back to all the mental strategies that I cultivated over the years, just to get to the root cause of it, but it keeps eluding me.
Is it fear? What exactly am I afraid of, though?
Is it anxiety about my future? Anger at the choices I’ve made over the years?
Or is it something deeper? Like a profound sense of failure, coupled with unbearable shame about who I am and where I ended up in life, which mounts a vicious attack on my self-worth?
I honestly don’t know.
And as if all of this is not enough, there is also this nagging feeling that I shouldn’t be feeling this way because it keeps me from doing any meaningful work. That includes my weekly posts here on Substack, which, to come back full circle, explains why I’m writing this very post that you are reading right now.
The fact of the matter is, I simply could not figure out what to write. All I could think of, all I could feel, was my rage. But I also felt guilty about the possibility of not writing anything, no matter how shitty I was feeling. Obviously, that guilt won the day.
And so, I thought I might as well try to turn this rage into some type of fuel and sat down to write this post.
I know that some of you did not sign up for this, reading the emotional rants of a 40-year-old man who pretty much (100%?) believes he fucked up his life. If you are one of those people, please accept my sincere apologies.
And there won’t be a redemptive conclusion to all this, either. I like to think that these little pieces that I keep churning out would help me look at my (fucked up?) emotions squarely in the face and manage them better over the long run, but honestly, I’m not so sure.
In any case, I do hope I’ll talk to you about something different (and slightly more cheerful) the next time we meet.
Until then, be well, and I’ll try my best to do the same.
When I'm in this sort of mood, my instinct is to seek escape, usually into fiction but always into some sort of media. People like to grouse about escapism, claiming it's a sign of immaturity or degeneracy or what have you. There are genuine downsides; some things in the real world are on a timer, and if you - if I - run away to a fictional one for a while, it's possible to miss out on them. But honestly, I think those downsides are greatly exaggerated. The right story at the right time, or even just a fragment of a story, can be a perfect tool to change your mood. In these sorts of moments, I will let it absorb me for a time. Often when I come back, I find that the source of my distress has faded, and I am re-energized to do whatever work my feelings were keeping me away from.
I don't know if this particular method will actually help you, but I hope you can at least take some solace in my sympathy and company.
I never particularly liked the saying but the one that springs to mind is "If you're going through hell, keep going"
I do think this will pass. Being full of rage is probably quite demanding on your brain and at some point it will need a break. I am in no way qualified to help you but I have enjoyed reading your posts and you are a funny guy. I especially enjoyed your writing about the pick up artist or whatever it was. If you need someone to talk to I'd be happy to ...feel free to DM me :)