A friend dropped by unexpectedly.
In our outside talk, I admitted my anger.
It's okay. She'd had the same anger and the realization that she needed to rise above it. She encouraged me. She shared her personal experiences. She encouraged me to express that anger--to her. We discussed who not to express the anger to.
When she left, she didn't leave me alone; she insisted that I call her if I started to suffocate again.
Anger is a kind of suffocation, a cutting off of oxygen, a disruption to the blood flow. It's why experts, yoga teachers and birthing coaches teach us to breathe.
My friend insisted and gave me lifelines to breathe again.
I did pretty good for a few days. Then there was a trigger. A perseveration. The anger let loose. Fortunately I was hiking in the hills above my home--my sanctuary. I thought of calling my friend. But I knew she was working. Though her offer was sincere, I didn't want to cast my burden like throwing grenades. So I imagined calling and talking to her.
It was enough.
Strangely.
I later told her " I almost called you to complain, but just knowing you were there to listen was enough and I was able to settle into a good space. Thanks dear friend."
After a few exchanges, she asked, "What did you tell yourself that helped you?"
I responded, "I think that just telling you in my head was enough. Knowing your compassion and care. It kind of reminds me of the same thing that happens with prayer. Does that make sense?"
Fortunately it did, and between the two of us, our care, our conversation, I had a little more insight to sacred communication.
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