That's the Thing with Anger, it Begs to Stick Around

I have opened my laptop almost every weekend for the past several weeks, hoping that I’ll finally write something worthy of publishing in this space. Though I’ve had several ideas swirling around in my head, some of which have materialized in partial draft form, they have all felt somehow unfocused and inauthentic.

As a relevant side note, I remember being so frustrated with my 8th-grade humanities teacher, Mrs. Olson, for saying that I should be speak more in class. It was ultimately a compliment because she said that people paid attention to what I said and that I had valuable things to share etc., etc., but I took great offense. I have never been one to waste my words and certainly not just to appeal to some structure of participation that others deem appropriate. Though I am certainly talkative, and even more so when you get to know me, I do not like to speak or write things that don’t either represent my experience and perspective accurately at that moment or offer something new to the conversation. 

Sometimes the river of ideas in my soul flows so steadily out of me either in verbal or written form that it overwhelms those around me, and, other times it is only a slow trickle, biding time until it can rush fully again. I’ve been dealing with the latter as of late. 

I’ve made no secret of the fact that I’ve been dealing with a lot of dark and challenging stuff over the past couple of years, both pandemic-related and otherwise. I’ve shared with family that the past two years have not been the worst of my life in the sense that I’ve maintained some semblance of hope through it all, but they have been the most emotionally labor-intensive. As the author of this blog, I’ve frequently been frustrated with myself by how vague I’ve been. 

One of the more challenging things in processing these past couple of years is that so many of the experiences that have deeply impacted me aren’t actually my stories to tell publicly, at least not yet. Y’all know that I am an open book when it comes to things I have done or circumstances that have impacted me primarily, but I am also fiercely protective of my people. I hesitate to put anything out into the questionable internet world without proper thoughtfulness and consent. It feels vulnerable for me and for them. I highlighted the term publicly for a reason. My intention with this blog has always been to start conversations online that continue offline. I’m happy to share more with you in a real-world space and hope that you’ll share with me too. 

These collective experiences, at times, have left my heart feeling cold and hard. I have prayed on many occasions that God would chip away at the concrete surrounding my heart and warm it towards others again, including those that have hurt me. It’s a process.

Before March(ish) 2020, I would have never thought of myself as an angry person. I still don’t, exactly, but I’ve realized over the past many months that I do carry around a lot more anger than I thought I did. It didn’t take much time at all for my unprocessed hurt to establish itself as anger. For some, that anger manifests outwardly as an explosion of aggression or hostility or... fill in the blank. For others, like me, anger looks a whole heck of a lot more like resentment – the kind of resentment that starts as small as a paper cut on your soul and soon becomes a suffocating web of scar tissue. 

Now I’m going to take a moment and be honest with you about what this resentment has sounded like in my own heart and mind. Though exposing, I believe it’s important to acknowledge where I’ve been as an example of being honest with ourselves and each other if we want to create any room for growth. So here goes nothing. 

Over the past couple of years... 

I have been deeply resentful of how willingly, and proudly, many people in and around my world have chosen to not wear masks or get vaccinated to protect themselves and others. It has both hurt and enraged me how “freedom” for one means complete isolation for another. I’ve wished COVID on people. I’ve wished that someone in their world would get just sick enough for them to understand. I’ve wished for people to get diagnosed with a chronic illness so they would change their minds. I have wished very bad things on, like me, very human people.  

I have been angry with my body and how often it fights against me. It took a whole fifteen years for me to realize that maybe having my life radically changed by a chronic illness as a young child was, in fact, traumatizing. I have wanted to throw in the towel, exhausted by the desires of my heart and mind conflicting with that of my physical body.  

I have returned hate with hate on multiple occasions by putting people in political boxes and passionately condemning those who don’t sit in the same boxes that I do... or think I do. In my worst moments, I have let myself be an angry, hateful hypocrite hiding behind a mask of false humility, kindness, and grace. 

I have placed myself and my woes firmly at the center of my own universe. I have resisted God. I’ve opted for distractions over Jesus. I have resented my time with Him and turned it into an obligation. I have let myself be passively led astray because it felt (read: feels) easier. 

I have felt jealous and insecure when my friends and family succeed or feel happy. I have been frequently unable to empathize with the challenges of those around me because I’ve been so caught up in minimizing their struggles by comparing them to my own. I have faked my enthusiasm about certain friendships. I have expected many in my world to support me without feeling an equal call to support them. I have used my pain and anger as an excuse to not serve, not care, and not look outside of myself and my world. 

I have been consumed by insecurity and self-loathing, jealous of others who simply exist without having to try so hard. It has been said many times that comparison is the thief of joy, whether that be to yourself or others, and I have felt that firsthand. 

So, here’s the good news: I don’t say any of this to disparage myself, or others, for that matter. I think that anger is critically important. It’s when we don’t feel our anger that things get messy. But I do say all of this to say that dang, anger has a tight grip on me these days. I’m so thankful that I don’t have to try and perfect myself using my own feeble power. That sounds hopeless and exhausting. I simply get to own the fact that I’m a flawed human and invite Jesus in to help me walk out the rest. Easier said than done though. I like control. 

Speaking of Jesus... (did you like that transition? ;), I have been reminded twice in recent weeks that what we focus on becomes a heuristic or lens through which we view the world and make decisions. The person sharing in one of these instances mentioned that God quite literally unleashes something within us when we praise and express gratitude that positively transforms the way we think, feel, and see. 

My hurt that turned to anger and then resentment has now turned to cynicism, and it has become the lens in which I see the world. In fact, a couple of months ago I had a brief scare where I thought I might have breast cancer. Fortunately, everything turned out ok but, at that moment, I remember thinking, “Of course it’s breast cancer. I am absolutely not surprised given the train wreck that has become my life.” It makes me sad that I thought that. But it also highlights for me that I’ve become so focused on the bad that I’ve had complete blinders up to all that is good, lovely, and pure. 

I chose the title of this post for a reason. Anger clings to us like tar. It wants to stick to our skin and our souls and consume us. It wants to bury deep and get comfy. When it stays in that dark place instead of coming into the light, it becomes a tool of the enemy to keep us down and distant from the one who created us. I fall victim to this cycle routinely, but now I want to break free (ooohhh how I want to breeakk freee). 

I want to shift my mentality to praise and gratitude. So, for the rest of this post, I’m going to practice with you. 

I experienced a poignant moment this year that I hope sticks with me for the rest of my life. In early August, I was sitting on the porch of a farmhouse in the Santa Ynez Valley watching the afternoon sun warm the golden California hills in front of me. In this quiet and peaceful space, I thought about all of the contradictions within me. I have often said that one of the greatest challenges in my life is that I want too many things. I’m interested in too many things. I feel seen in too many spaces while simultaneously feeling seen in none at all and the choice between this or that can be overwhelming. This reflection was prompted by the feeling of being torn between my California roots and the home I had made in Oregon.

The next day, I told my mom about my internal conversation on the porch and she reminded me to dance to the music that’s playing. There might be a really great song that’s coming up next, but you don’t want to miss the one that’s playing right now. That stuck with me. Life is kind of like an epic playlist and I don’t want to miss out on what’s right now by being anxious about what is to come. 

And in thinking of playlists, I am so grateful that I was brought up in such a musical home. I’ve had friends tell me that the Martin family is like a real-life musical. It’s true, we really do break out into song multiple times a day (hour?). Sometimes it is hard for me to tell the difference between the rhythm of a song and my own heartbeat; they intertwine so seamlessly. There have been countless moments recently where I did not want to talk to or find comfort in God, but he still used music to speak into me. To encourage me. To show me that he cared. 

Y’all, I forget, but one of the most wonderful things that happened this year is that I got to be reunited with my family after more than a year of social distancing. Praise Jesus for the vaccines that have allowed us to be present with each other again. I do not ever want to take time with them for granted. They are my most favorite people. 

It was extra special this year because, during the same trip to Santa Ynez that I mentioned earlier, I got to spend an entire evening with both of my families under one roof. My biological and chosen grandfathers’ families spent an evening together talking, laughing, enjoying good food, and getting to know one another. It was an almost out-of-body experience that evening to walk through our rented country home and see both sides intermixed and having a wonderful time.  For countless reasons, I never thought something like that would happen. I’ll always hold it close.

There have been several moments over the past couple of years where I’ve literally had to pause and thank God for the friends he’s put in my life. Literally the coolest people ever. I am so lucky to have such a wonderful, heterogeneous group of people around me. They are friends who love and respect me exactly for who I am and who I love and respect for exactly who they are. This has not always been the case in my life which makes it so extra special now. I don’t get to see many of them in person very often, but they are always a phone call away. Thank you all for talking me off the ledge oh so many times. 

In early January, I met with a woman who worked for an organization I was interested in. She was so super cool and balanced and represented all the values that I was looking for in a work environment. Our conversation came after many months of unemployment, and it gave me hope that I can keep my standards high because there are good people doing good work out there. In July, I started working for her. It required patience and persistence to get there, but God paved the way. I love that story. 

In 2016, I took my first international trip and that fundamentally changed the travel game for me. From then on, I wouldn’t go more than a couple of months without hopping on a plane headed somewhere new. Obviously, the past couple of years have halted most of that, leaving me detached from one of my most consistent sources of joy. Though that’s still the case, travel has come creeping back in this year and I am so grateful for that. I’ve gotten to explore the south coast of Oregon, visit my home state, and move my best friend into her Seattle apartment. It’s easy for me to make those adventures feel small or insignificant but I lose sight of the complete privilege it is to explore when I do that. I want to deeply appreciate any opportunity, both big and small, that I get to see something new. 

My mom and I have basically been keeping our local Coffee Culture in business since the pandemic started. Like, I’m talking daily trips for my cinnamon orange tea and her decaf half-sweet latte of the day. This has not been the most financially wise decision per se, but it has turned into this beautiful bright spot on otherwise monotonous days. I love those guys and gals so much. 

I’ve also recently gotten to befriend some of my favorite public figures as well. It still astounds me to write that I got to spend three months learning from and growing with Bethany Hamilton. I consider her a friend, now, and hope that we’ll have other opportunities for collaboration in the future. The circumstances surrounding that coaching experience are entirely divine. I feel so lucky that my love for all things pop culture is not simply a trivial interest, but rather a facet of my experience that brings both joy and personal development. 

I mentioned my medical trauma earlier and how I’ve avoided attaching that term to it for so long. But as silly as it may sound, I’m glad that I was able to accept the trauma of it all this year. I do not recommend having an autoimmune condition during a politicized worldwide pandemic, but I am thankful for how God has used that to expose the hurt of my past and present and provide an opportunity for me to start working through it. I’ve had to confront the pain instead of running away from it (well, I’ve run away from it too but more on that another time...) and I know that the process that has begun now will end up paying dividends in the future. 

And finally (for now), this blog. I am so proud of the safe, cozy internet home that I’ve created. Whether I post weekly, or quarterly, this place means so much to me. Those of you that read and engage with my words mean so much to me. I love it here. It’s been my outlet and sounding board for over a year now. Thank you for making it possible and for caring about what I write. 

Honestly, I started this post feeling sad and vulnerable. I’m ending it smiling. I had to stop myself from writing more because there’s still so much goodness that I could talk about. I feel the fingertips of anger and resentment loosening their grip. This is step one, folks. My lens on the world won’t change overnight, but I’m so glad that I spent the last hour meditating on the good. I can already sense my heart towards myself and others shifting. I’m getting filled back up.  

Please honor and process your anger. Please also choose to honor and see the lovely gifts that each day brings. It’ll help you with the first piece. 

Now, if you read to the end, I have a special surprise for you. As I mentioned earlier, music is a deeply personal thing to me. I’m generally equally proud and protective of the music that I listen to. You all may or may not have noticed, but most of my blog post titles are references to song lyrics. This particular post title is pulled directly from “Seventeen Going Under” by Sam Fender. To let you all into my life a little more and celebrate all that is good, I’ve decided to share my go-to “Things I Like” playlist with you all. You can access it here. I update the songs pretty much on the daily and they very much reflect only a snapshot of my musical taste at any given moment, but I hope you enjoy it. 

I’ll talk to you soon. 

Xo,

Abbey