Ugly Green Troll

That's what I feel like. A monstrous troll lurking under a bridge. So disappointed in myself and others. In their faults and in the warts that sprout on me when I react in an ugly way. Warts, nails, spikes....harsh, unsightly things. Sharp contrasts to the beauty mark.

Anger--can it ever be beautiful? I think it can. The anger of the young people who sat at the lunch counter so that people of all color could linger there and eat. That was graceful and beautiful. That anger was put to good use. And it brought on a hard-won sea change.

I imagine that other angers--over illness or, say, the death of a loved one--could also be noble in their purpose. Staring down the dark villain, uncaging rage.

It doesn't seem noble in my case. I can't see these other people's faults as graces, as lilies of the valley, as things that can grow and change. I only project immediately into the future that these faults are black markers, predictors of very bad things to come. 

And what of the bridge? Where is it leading? What two points does it span? It feels like a bridge to nowhere. I can't see it for what it is. If I'm supposed to be helping or guiding people over the bridge rather than living underneath it in the mud and muck, with toads and slugs, I'm failing miserably. That much I know.

Why can't people--and in this case, it's three females, ages 30, 18 and 6--just behave the way I think they should?

Postscript written 13 hours later, Monday morning, after we discovered that Punch has a 102 fever and has to miss the first day of first grade, much to our [and her] chagrin. Should have added at end: Or why can't I behave the way I think I should? And remember that I'm not a puppeteer, pulling strings. I can be the best I can be, and, as a mother, be a good example. As a writer, try to move the human heart [inspired by the title of Roger Rosenblatt's book, Unless It Moves the Human Heart: The Craft and Art of Writing].

TCOY

1. Went to church. Liked the "Here I Am, Lord" hymn lyrics, especially those in blue: "I, the Lord of sea and sky, I have heard My people cry. All who dwell in dark and sin, My hand will save. I who made the stars of night, I will make their darkness bright. Who will bear My light to them? Whom shall I send?"
2. Very brief nap, very late in day. Don't ask. The anger built up and was ugly. Rough day with Punch and to some degree, Figgy.