the rod of your anger isn’t yours to carry

lately, I contemplate that the rod of my anger isn’t my anger to hold. the rod of my anger isn’t assigned to be used by me to punish or otherwise play God. suppressed deep anger isn’t for me to lash out, or correct people. that anger isn’t motivation for transmutation: it’s a poison that is held for years as slowly it builds up toxicity until it finally explodes like mentos + coke shaken up together. it’s explosive. it’s not yours to hold, to explode, to bury deep until mentos triggers you. your job is to leave that explosive anger: substance, liquid, fluid that has been bottled up to not be triggered by mentos. you aren’t your anger. but your anger is a byproduct of your unresolved, and unaddressed trauma + wounds. you need to make peace and harmony with the ghost of your traumas/past. it’s haunting you.

I realized this as I was scrolling on my TL, and realized that I am the angry eldest sibling/daughter. the only daughter. the middle child of the cousins. one of the eldest of the cousins sometimes. the youngest of the cousins sometimes. I have so many roles. I’m the protector. I’m the baby. I’m everything in-between. I’m the curse breaker. I’m the survivor. I’m fighting demons still that aren’t mine. I’m in positions I wasn’t put in. I’m fighting battles that plague me, that aren’t mine. I’m the warrior of my bloodline, and this isn’t my role or job within my gender to be a protector. I feel slighted and angry that my feminity feels like it was robbed from me, by my environments and my circumstances. I don’t want to be the curse breaker, or the masculine / masculine energy. It feels so infuriating. It feels too much to be the warrior all the time. I want to be soft. I want to be taken care of. people put me in masculine positions, and I feel resentment that I’m forced to be a protector. who protects me when I need a protector? who is the masculine when I need to be feminine? I need to be feminine.

using your anger as a rod, when it’s not yours to hold: upsets God. you aren’t being used as divine correction such as the babylonians who were used as a rod. everyday I feel various anger from various colonizational injustices that plague me, and have been familiar spirits towards my bloodline as demons since God knows how long. all of me feels colonized, conquered, and silenced. the warrior in me is angry. the warrior in me is tribal. the warrior in me feels slighted. but everytime I allow myself to feel that anger, of generations, of thousands of years: whenever someone crosses me / betrays me / hurts me / continues my occupational oppression / can’t go back home / my identity erased / my ancestors silenced. that coke bottle pours and pours. and every time someone betrays me, the mentos gets introduced. I can’t be the rod of correction. i’m not the babylonians. i’m not the village warrior. even though God put me as one of his strongest soliders list ever since I was born: a hit list towards my bloodline as an Assyrian as a daughter towards ethnic cleansing / erasure. I need to be soft. but I’ve never known what it was like to be raised without trauma and anger. I don’t know feminity. I don’t know what it’s like to walk around without my guard down. i’m the protector. I don’t want to be. but I was birthed to be.

I feel anger every day being erased. I feel anger every day being betrayed. I feel anger being painted as aggressive, even though people throw stones but hide their hands. the more I choose to spare the rod, the more God rewards me for forgiving and not playing HIM. I refuse to be God. I refuse to give karmic retribution. I am not the blood of my offenders in survival. I can’t carry the blood of offense in my hands as a balanced scale of my enemies. I was born to forgive, and that doesn’t mean that i’m not hard or that you can hurt me. it just means that my forgiveness holds more weight that trying to play God. God plays God, and God knows the balance of the scales. I don’t know God’s infinite plan. I don’t know his brilliance. I’m only his child. I can’t give the anger. I can’t throw the rod. God gave Jesus as forgiveness. I was taught to forgive. I wasn’t taught to match energies, and end of with God’s rod of anger alongside with you. I can’t be built like that.

my anger is a result of thousands of years of my ancestor’s survival, and I am their greatest dream as well as the capability of being their greatest nightmare. I don’t want to be the nightmare ancestor of my bloodline. I need to spare the rod. I need to forgive. that anger is corrosive when held inside. I don’t need to carry it with me, as fuel when interacting with mentos. God avenges, and makes things correct. it’s not my job to be the village protector anymore. I mourn the feminine years, young years, that were robbed from me. but the years robbed, God will restore. I serve a God of love, not of darkness. it’s time to pour the bottle of coke out, so it doesn’t interact with mentos of your enemies who have deemed themselves enemies of offense. you can’t hold offense anymore. it’s a bad interaction. just pour the bottle of anger down the drain.

it’s ok to be feminine. don’t let them rob your feminine energy anymore. you don’t have to be angry, argumentative, or masculine because you’re the only one who protects you. you can put that down, now. fight or flight isn’t the answer. it’s the survival of thousands of years of your ancestors being colonized as people of color, and erased from your region + being told you aren’t who you are in ethnic identity. I refuse to feel their anger, too. it’s not me, although their survival raised me. I can’t live using my anger as fuel another day. some people pass away from their ancestor’s survival. here is to 5 years sober. I beat my ancestor’s survival patterns that were meant to protect me, and keep us here from being erased from history as well as our tribal homeland. my anger was my survival. but 5 years sober, my anger cannot exist in the way it used to protect me. some of my ancestors didn’t survive sobriety. I need to be the survival in my bloodline. and in doing so, I can’t be angry. I need to be soft and feminine. some of my ancestors were never soft, and feminine. it’s my birthright to make sure that I get to live the rest of my life not being robbed anymore.