In my twenties, a woman cut me off on a major street forcing me into oncoming traffic. I could have been very badly hurt. When I asked her to apologize, she told me to fuck off so I tore her windshield wiper off. It really damaged my hand. That was the first time I realized I had a lot of anger inside me.
In my thirties, I had trouble with anxiety. I went on medications at the urgings of my doctor who said it would take 6 months to feel the effects. I felt some effects right away—side effects, but I stuck out the 6 months. Then I went off them it was like there was an empty vessel inside of me filling up with hate and rage. The pills masked all the dark matter; off them, it came back.
Now, in my mid sixties, people around me are noticing a change. I hear the dark matter in my jokes; I feel it when I am walking, triggered by rule breakers, and it comes out when I am with people. It is time to get help, so this morning I spent hours online and wrote to a counsellor for an appointment. I am full of hope and doubt. I am glad, though, that I have taken action.
And yesterday I made another choice. I decided to out myself as someone who needs and wants a relationship with God—not a religion, not a faith, just a compassionate and loving God. End of story.
So now I have two guys "in my corner:" God and Dr. Fisher.
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