Dear Diary,
Generally speaking, I try to reflect upon the content of my character every MLK day. Yesterday, I wanted to write a piece about another MLK quote, “A nation that continues year after year to spend more money on military defense than on programs of social uplift is approaching spiritual death.” I pondered what ‘spiritual death’ looks like, and immediately Donald Trump entered my mind. I considered talking about how some of his followers claimed he was sent by God while embodying all seven deadly sins. I then thought about my message, as I didn’t want to write another negative piece. I couldn’t come up with any suitable answers as there were none to find. I have exited politics and have let go of that substantial portion of my life.
I understand I have let go as I have little interest in the topic. Before, I felt like I was pushing against a door, trying to keep it closed against a battering ram and invasion force. I experienced rejuvenating moments when it seemed like allies reinforced me at the door. However, I experienced crushing and demotivating moments by those trying to destroy. Yes, I still want the best for people, but I can’t station myself at the door anymore. Anger is driven by a desire to protect, and I am flat out fatigued from being angry. To add a layer of burden to myself, I failed to understand my anger for what it is/was and acted to escape from it rather than address it. Addressing the anger and how I became consumed by it enabled me to remove myself from the situation and let go.
I experience manic phases regularly. They tend to be short-lived and are a cause of concern. While in those phases, I fail to think things through with the same awareness and caution compared to non-manic me. I feel an inflated sense of importance, urgency, and capability. Combine that with simmering anger, and I would switch from non-confrontational to directly confrontational with a demand for immediate resolution. When I burned out and returned to a less elevated state, I would immediately feel remorse for the trail of destruction in my wake. I would spend much of my time avoiding or atoning until it happened again. It took me entirely too long to understand how my road to hell was paved with good intentions.
In my non-manic states, my self-worth isn’t spectacular. I give excessive weight to my failures and inadequate weight to my successes. In my manic state, my self-worth increases due to the fear of consequences receding. My fear of consequences is overwhelmed by energy mistaken for happiness and healthy creative outlets. My delusions of grandeur encourage me to manifest change instantly, and my undercurrent of anger because I want to protect myself and my environment rises and presents itself aggressively. Manic me switches positions with non-manic me. Manic me tries to operate the battering ram. My heart may be in the right place deep down, but how I pursue those intentions is wholly wrong.
Learning to decouple anger from mania is an ongoing process but has yielded positive results already. The chances of me never experiencing elevated states are slim, but my ability to address my anger is considerably greater. By removing myself from the political realm, I gave myself the time to see just how angry I was. I was on the battlefield constantly; as such, I couldn’t see the greater picture of the war. I felt responsible to continue fighting as a veteran and citizen, but what I was hoping to accomplish was never in my control. “All it takes is for evil to win is for good men to do nothing,” rang in my actions.
The process of fighting in the political world means we are always focused on the past or future. We debate the meaning and impact of history, recent and distant. We argue about how to change going forward. We’re not present in the moment. To be present in the moment means we don’t render judgment on the moment and politics is all about judging things. We decide things are ‘good’ or ‘bad’ and act based on our decisions. Judging plants a flag in the timeline from which the present goes ignored, and I lost a substantial amount of time ignoring the present.
Entering into an indefinite meditative state isn’t realistic. No one goes through life without rendering any judgments. However, mindfulness and meditation allow us to peel away the layers of our decisions to understand where our intentions lie vs. the consequences of our actions. I intend to let go of the anger I’ve held for years. The result of understanding our actions is the ability to enter into a meditative state more often. We act to engage in non-action. By decoupling anger from mania, I have fewer actions requiring my attention. By having fewer actions requiring my attention, I can spend less time seeking or practicing forgiveness and more time being present in the moment.
I am slowly coming to terms with my fragility and instability. I am easily overwhelmed, and I am wary of my destructive knee-jerks because I’ve done it before. I function best alone or in small groups, engaging in proactive activities. Between my army and civilian lives, I’ve spent two decades being reactive, and it left me drained physically, mentally, and emotionally. I’m not proud that my being present involves solitude and a quiet, controlled environment, but I’m spending less effort denying and escaping from it. Instead, I’m doing my best to learn how to help in a sustainable way. Perhaps I can help others learn to manage their anger and what obstacles prohibit them from being present in the moment. I can assist without attaching; I can engage without anger and celebrate their success with them without feeling responsible for it. The path I’m on now I can give meaning to proactively, and as a result, I can hold a spark of hope rather than an inferno of anger—one step at a time.