An illustration inspired by a memory I had from when I was little...
My mother used to say she never let me be angry. And I understood why. She grew up with such a mean, harsh mother, she needed me to be happy. And I obliged as best as I could. I wanted her love and learned to be a perfect accessory—I glittered and sparkled and shined.
But underneath all the right things I learned to say were my feelings. Even angry feelings. But because I knew my anger wasn’t wanted, it came out secretly, through hurting myself.
It took me decades to understand that anger isn’t a bad word. That my angry feelings just needed to be felt and understood. That anger has good things to share, like what feels ok and what doesn’t.
And now that I have a child of my own, I make sure to pause when he’s angry, because I know I’m wired to try to fix his anger. So I pause and I tell him that his feelings are important to feel. That they have important messages to share. And that if he would like to share what his anger feels like, I’m here to listen.
-JLK
