grief, rage

Lately, I am finding myself suddenly, surprisingly, intensely full of rage. Since I don't know why it's happening, I turn it inward into a sea of frenetic self  loathing and a desire for violence: yelling, screaming, pounding violence against a body and mind that I try to have compassion for and find myself utterly lacking. I want to eat and punch my way out of what is going on inside me, because I give it almost no voice. My throat can't speak these words.

In times of calm, I meditate. Love and healing to myself, to my family, to the world. I tighten around the rage, because I fear that if it's  expressed it will leave a swath of poisonous waste around it. I take some precious breaths, center myself and do what needs to happen next. But my breath is shaky today, my throat tight, and so I left, afraid of what the next words might be. I have so much compassion for the suffering of my sons but can't find my 'self' to be compassionate towards this morning. The cold winter wind and gray sky are my voice, a whipping invisible, touching everything. The sound of it feels more real than the filth of my home, the depth of my despair and anger. I want to leave it all behind and go to a place of love and light and warmth but right now, I know that this is my normal and right now I need to figure out how to survive it. 

Addendum: I picked up a book 10 minutes later and opened it:

"The warrior in your heart says stand your ground. Feel the survival of a thousand years of ancestors in your muscles and your blood. You have all the support you need in your bones"

Jack Kornfield