I’m asking myself if there is a way I can begin to transmute the anger and grief that I feel towards my mother. She did not love me – her first child and first daughter. At present, it’s not as much anger at my human mother as intense grief for how her behavior affected me as a baby, infant, young girl, teenager, young woman, adult woman and even now into my old woman years. My life was so much smaller than it might have been – and I can never change that.
Sue Monk Kidd writes that rage needs to be changed into “outrage”. “Outrage is love’s wild and unacknowledged sister. She is the one who recognizes feminine injury, stands on the roof, and announces it if she has to, then jumps into the fray to change it. She is the one grappling with her life, reconfiguring it, struggling to find liberating ways of relating.” Kidd also quotes Clarissa Pinkola Estes saying that anger becomes a “fire that cooks things rather than a fire of conflageration” and goes on to say that a fire which cooks things can feed you as well as many other people. Is it too late for me to find a way to cook with my anger and create some form of nourishment and nurturing for myself and even for other women?