Reinterpreting Anger

I had a weird interaction with a tattoo artist and it brought a lot of things to light. About a week before she was supposed to tattoo me, she emailed a drawing and it was so bad I declined her services. I had to be very clear to write out my response in a way that (hopefully) wouldn’t offend her.

The next day I found myself first at a coffee shop then a dive bar with an old friend. She was in a deep sea of sadness, darker and more vast than I’ve ever had to swim out of. I could see the waves buffeting the sides of her steel ship, the rise and fall of her emotions crashing with them. She unleashed and told me she thought I used to be very judgmental, that I made her uncomfortable because I treated her like she wasn’t worth my time. I handled it well but it was difficult to swallow.

That same evening my best friend broke our plans to instead attend a lecture. I haven’t had real time with her in months and miss her terribly. She’s in the middle of getting her Master’s and I’m so proud, but when we have gotten together she has been avoidant and distracted. I’ve decided to let her go and stop trying.

Really, I wanted to tell the tattoo artist that her rendition of a snake looked like a boxy angry turd, that her lack of thought and intention came across in her lazy design, that her heaviness hung in the flower’s petals and bee’s wings, that her doubling the quote of our original meeting showed a desperation and hunger for monetary gain and gross approval.

Really, I wanted to tell my old friend that her imbalance wasn’t something I could emotionally handle at the time because she triggered all my land mines and I never knew where or when they’d fucking explode, that I was already working with the mentally ill and was unknowingly depleted, that I felt like she was being selfish for unleashing so much weight and not giving me room to voice my own anger.

Really, I want to tell my best friend that I think she’s going off on an egoic tangent, that her schmoozy gatherings are turning her into a shallow, boring bitch.

But I recognize those things aren’t “Really” what I want to say.

I want to say I admire your creative energy and am scared of rejection, too.

I want to say I trust the snot out of you for being so honest and think our friendship can withstand big waves, too.

I want to say I miss you, love you, and it’s okay to need space, too.