Anger is like fire. It burns hot, but it needs fuel, and leaves behind nothing but ash.
I’ve been angry for a long, long time. Now I feel tired and broken. Nothing left but the occasional ember in the cinders.
I’ll recover, I’m sure. But not today. And probably not tomorrow. Probably not for a while.
All of my interests relate back to political and philosophical thought in some way. Closing my eyes won’t help. It’s not the barrage of stupidity that’s killing me, though that is aggravating. It’s the hopelessness, and that returns as long as the matter is considered, whether there’s news to go with it or not.
I feel you man. Most of my friends want to bury their heads in their sand to cope and ignore everything, I just can’t do that. I want to be angry for a while and talk about what’s making me angry.
You can develop those subjects irl too, for example by joining a local non profit that focuses on something that you like. I think it’s the best way to go through this difficult period.
Most of my IRL circle are the problem… I am despairing that I need to so heavily prune core parts of my circle.
In the words of my therapist, “that’s just rage”. Anger is the feeling that says “no” and motivates you to action, not the one that kicks and screams and does nothing.
Anger has kept one foot going in front of the other at many points in my life. It can’t run on nothing. It can’t burn infinitely.
Anger is fueled by love. My anger is fueled by a woefully irrational love for this country, my state, my city, my neighborhood, my friends, my family, the culture and beauty birthed by this nation, now being set ablaze to avoid facing the atrocities committed to build it. While i am not fond of the past, but i must embrace it and love it; and only once there is not even a memory left of this place i call home, will flame burn out
Lucky for you, I feel enough rage for the both of us. I am consumed by an unquenchable bloodlust of such magnitude that I genuinely do not feel like the words exist to properly describe it. All of these fascist fuckers think they are about to make us ‘find out’ but boy oh boy have they been doing a lot of fucking around.
I will not go quietly when they come for me or my neighbors.
Sounds like you need to sweep out the chimney. It’s a dirty job, it sucks, and it’ll only get worse if you put it off. But in time you’ll be burning like new again.
I don’t know exactly how the metaphor applies in your situation, but I’ve struggled for a long time with burnout and that resonates with me. Hopefully you find some comfort
