Welcome to this practice.
So sit down,
However you actually sit.
When there's nobody to perform for.
I'm not going to ask you to relax.
I'm not going to tell you to let it go.
One more person tells you to let it go.
That.
Hold on to that feeling.
We are going to use it.
Breathe in through your nose.
And out through your mouth.
Not a curated spa breath A lion's breath.
Bull's breath.
Breath of fire.
And again,
In through your nose.
And out through your mouth.
Let it be loud.
Again in.
.
.
And I'll.
.
.
Let it be anything it needs to be.
So.
You are angry.
Good.
Genuinely.
It's good.
Because anger is not the problem.
Anger is the most honest thing you've got left after all these years.
Being trained to swallow it.
And smile.
They told you your anger was ugly.
They told you it made you difficult.
Dramatic.
Too much.
They told you that because your anger is dangerous.
Not to you.
But to them.
Take your time to find that anger in your body right now.
Unimaginable.
Heat.
Tightness,
The clench in the jaw,
The fist in your chest,
The thing coiled at the base of your spine.
Find it.
Place your hand on it.
Now here is what nobody has taught you.
Anger that has nowhere to go turns around and around and eats you from the inside.
It becomes the migraine.
The gut that won't settle.
The 3am rage spiral.
The resentment you take out on the people who did not earn it.
Unmoved anger doesn't disappear.
It just goes inward and inward.
And starts telling you that it's all your fault.
So we.
We are going to move it.
Breathe into that place under your hand.
In through the nose,
Feeling the space.
And this time when you exhale,
I want you to make it mean something.
Push the breath out like you're pushing something off you.
Something that was never yours to carry.
The good girl.
The apology you kept on your tongue.
With the smile you paste on for people who are draining the life out of you.
Breathe them all out.
And say it.
Say it out loud.
Or in the privacy of your own glorious,
Furious head.
Normal.
No more.
Feel how good it is.
Feel how long you've needed to say it.
You are not too much.
You were never too much.
You were exactly enough,
And they needed you to believe otherwise.
So you would keep making yourself small.
That shrinking is over.
Let it move now.
Let your body do what it needs,
What it wants.
Shake.
Press.
Curl your hands into fists.
Push against the floor.
This is not a tantrum.
This is a reckoning.
There is a difference in your body.
It knows.
Here's the thing.
About someone who has made friends with their own anger.
They are ungovernable.
They are sovereign.
And not be flattened into silence or shamed into shrinking.
You walk into the room and something shifts.
Because you are no longer available for it.
Not the raging mess they warned you about.
Quite the opposite.
Anger with somewhere to go is just power that finally knows,
Finally embraces its own name.
You You do not need to be nice.
You do not have to perform gratitude.
You do not have to be healed,
Or soft,
Or radiant,
Or glowing,
Or whatever this week's word is for palatable.
Gray and flattened.
Ew.
You get to be someone with a fire inside and a reason to use it.
Feel that holy fire within you.
Embrace One more deep breath.
Feeling the heat still within you,
Still there.
Because it is.
And it should be.
You didn't need to get rid of it.
Gave it direction.
Purpose.
Much.
That is the whole game.
Now go and be gloriously,
Usefully difficult.
And disappoint the Empire.
I'll see you out.
