Why is it that I just ended one of the strongest friendships of my life, and yet I feel no remorse? I am a happy person. I never yell at people. I may complain behind their backs, but I am never bitchy to someone's face. Never. Yet here I am, having royally and sarcastically bitched out my best friend, wait, former best friend, and damn, I feel amazing. How is that possible? How can it feel good for me, a genuinely nice person, to be so mean?
I used to think that anger comes first and sadness follows. I've spent the last 2 or 3 days waiting for the sadness to catch up with me. Waiting for the realization that I ended my closest friendship to hit me, and for regret or remorse or guilt... but none of that came. Last night it occurred to me that maybe, just maybe, I'm wrong. Maybe instead of anger and then sadness, maybe it's the opposite. I have spent the last several months being sad. I have spent a significant amount of time mourning the slow decline of a friendship I valued greatly. I have convinced myself that by continuing to try, that I was doing the right thing, and that I didn't really want to lose that relationship. I finally gave up hope of salvaging that relationship, and I let the anger get to me. I let the irritation and resentment catch up, and I spent some time trying to talk myself out of it. I tried to tell myself that anger wasn't real, and that I had nothing to be angry about. It didn't work. It finally got to the point where I didn't care about what I might be losing, because by letting out my anger, I was freeing myself, and that's exactly what I did. I did what I've always secretly wanted to, but never had the courage to do. I let out exactly what I was thinking, in the smart-ass, bitchy, sarcastic manner that I had in my head. I let go of the resentment, and the anger, and I would have kept going had I had the chance. As it is, a part of me still harbors more resentment that I couldn't get out of my system, but the majority of me feels freer and happier than I have been in months. So yes, the sadness of my loss might catch up to me eventually, but I don't think so. I think the time for grief has passed, and now that the anger has passed as well, I think I can finally let go and move on.
Anger is a curious thing. It grows and consumes a part of the soul, and left to its own devices, it can take over. Taming anger is an honorable goal, and should be practiced by all. However, I strongly believe that at some point, anger will express itself, with little regard for consequences. At some point, it takes over the mind and the intellect, and brings apathy instead of worry. It calms inhibitions, and unleashes itself. It can be controlled, but at what cost? Isn't it sometimes better to free oneself of its hold?
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