It starts in my fingertips
an energy that shoots up into my forearms, retracting muscles and drawing my fingers up into fists
it flies up to my shoulders
and they jerk up toward my earlobes as if magnetized;
the effort leaves me trembling.
The sinew in my neck bulges
as too-big energy passes through
strategically-placed filters
First, it squeezes through Not Right Now
and more easily bypasses Not Here.
It jumps the hurdles of Not Ladylike and What Will People Think
and before I know it
my Primal Scream
rattles my teeth
and my ears, the faces of the people around me, the pillow I’ve used to dampen the sound
reveal their shock at my outpouring.
I hosted a gathering of women on the Spring Equinox, not long ago, and the conversation quickly turned to Anger.
We nodded thoughtfully as we each considered how we might
deal with it
quell it
avoid impacting others with it
And then one woman said
I’ve started screaming.
I sighed with relief, and recounted the many, many times my frustration, anger, confusion or desperation has erupted from me in ways I often admonished myself for.
As women, we are comfortable with our tears
and even these salty rivulets are still too-often labelled
Too Much
Out of Control
And yet
What of our rage?
What of this end of the spectrum of our emotions?
What it we weren’t to judge it as
too loud
petty
Not Allowed
and just allowed ourselves to feel it?
What if we, in doing so, taught ourselves and others how to be with our most difficult,
least socially acceptable,
and yet fully human feelings?
Is there a primal scream inside you that’s aching to be released?
What would happen if you would allow it?