I prefer to call it sublimation.
Over the last couple of years I have noticed that my anger tends to flare up at the slightest provocation. Most often I am simply bugged by some frustrating event, such as an anomalous bug in code that is resisting discovery and extinction, or some moron on the road who has obviously disengaged brain and/or backbone before turning the ignition key, or getting caught in a tangled web of university and health insurance bureaucracy that prevented me from getting registered for this semester in a timely fashion. None of these events, however, seems threatening or insulting enough warrant the homicidal urges that seem more than willing to jump to the fore at such moments.
Sometimes I think it's just the result of my being—shall we say—emotionally constipated most of my life. Now that my emotions aren't so buried anymore, I sometimes feel like a teenager (toddler?) trying to figure out what the hell is going on. Still, one of my clients that I am seeing as part of my practicum is an adolescent boy who came in for anger management problems. We've spent time talking about anger being a secondary emotion, that there is usually something going on underneath that we are using anger to protect ourselves from. Most often what is going on is some emotion that makes us feel weak, frightened and/or powerless and anger literally is our own little Incredible Hulk that gives us the fortitude to overcome, or is at least enough of a distraction that we can remain in denial. We've also talked about how whatever set us off is sometimes just the grain of rice that tips the scale and the anger we feel is about other stuff that's out of sight, if not out of mind.
I hardly think it fair that I not be willing to submit to the same self examination that I ask of my clients. In fact, I tend to think that's what makes a good therapist: someone who is as willing to deal with his own issues as he expects his clients to be. I recently spent a fair amount of time pondering the source of these flare ups (while soaking in a hot bath). No matter where I start, I always seem to end up at religion.
Every frustration I have with respect to my current life leads, directly or indirectly, back to religion: social norms that still make it unacceptable to hold my sweetheart's hand in public, efforts to marginalize gay and lesbian Americans into second class citizens, my family's ability to accept my partner so long as we don't appear to be a couple, my frustration with the virtual impossibility of being a father to my children who only visit. I often say that I harbor no ill will toward the church (in my case the LDS church) and by extension to religion in general, but I begin to question now if that is truly the case. It seems the reality is that I'm pretty pissed off.
I still don't believe that outright hostility is the proper expression of these feelings I have. I have not seen one single instance where that has proven an adaptive response. On the contrary, in every case I can think of it has been downright dysfunctional, if for no other reason that the only person who would be harmed is me. I do also make an attempt at being a fair minded individual. I realize that the practice of religion is as diverse as the practice of culture. It is no more useful to stereotype someone as "a Mormon" than it is to stereotype someone as "black."
I end up in conversations with myself about possible explanations for behavior and policy (okay, fine, belief) that I witness. Since the Mormon tradition is the one with which I am most familiar, it is almost always the topic of discussion.
"How can someone claim to have direct access to the mind of God and be so completely wrong on this subject?"
"Maybe it isn't the right time."
"The right time? There has to be a right time to do the right thing?"
"Look at what the Episcopal church is going through. Church leaders are going to avoid that situation like the plague. You know if Gordon came out tomorrow and declared he had received a revelation about the admission of homosexuality the church would be in an uproar. There are too many people who couldn't handle it and would leave."
"So? Let 'em go. Who needs them?"
"I don't know. Maybe they're concerned about splinter groups forming. My guess is it would be the most staunchly radical folk that would leave. Look at all the grief Colorado City has caused over the years. The last thing the church leaders would want to cope with is another fundamentalist splinter group."
"I'm not conviced. Excommuincate them. Disavow any association. Just like they've been doing for decades with polygamists."
"I guess. Maybe they think it's better to keep them in the fold where they can keep an eye on them and have some measure of control."
"So the bigots are managed at the expense of gays and lesbians who want nothing more than to be accepted in their families and religion of origin. Sounds a bit like casting your pearls before swine to me."
"Well, maybe they feel some responsibility. The church wasn't all that gay friendly from about the late 50s until about 2000 or so. There is some evidence they were downright hostile. Maybe they're trying to undo what they've done."
"So what you're saying is they have their balls caught in a vice of their own making and I'm supposed to feel sorry for them."
"Ummm...."
"Yeah. Not gonna happen."