The Story I Didn’t Publish

Ann Litts
3 min readApr 18, 2020

What do you do with the anger?

Photo by Fateme Alaie on Unsplash

It’s been a tough week — out There.

And I’ve been really pissed off.

I’ve tried breathing. I’ve tried yoga. I’ve tried meditation. Last night I even tried tequila. It didn’t help. Nothing helped.

So I wrote. I wrote all about The Anger. All. The. Things. I am so disappointed about. Frightened about. Sad about. Stressed about.

Because it’s not really anger at all — is it? Is it ever? When you stop and really exam it — anger is always the cover story. For a while there — I was pushing ‘righteous indignation’ to a new, higher level than I have in quite some time.

But none of us get to stand on this particular pedestal. And sure enough — way up at that altitude, I soon began to feel the dizziness of the thinner air and toppled down to earth again.

I am attached. Very attached to a certain future, it seems.

A future where Life is as I planned it.

A future where none of my friends become infected with the plague at work and die.

A future where nothing screws up my plans to retire and travel.

A future where my Best Friend and I go on glorious adventures and see All. The. Wonderous. Things.

A future where my family is safe, healthy, whole.

A future where I see my granddaughters whenever I choose.

A future that is safe, secure, happy, full of love. Blessed even.

I am also very attached to a certain set of beliefs.

Beliefs in contracts I hold with Humans/institutes/The Divine.

A belief that my employer will always provide me with the tools I need to be safe which allows me to take care of my patients in a moral and ethical manner.

A belief that no one dies before their time.

A belief that I am strong enough for These Days.

A belief that love is love is love.

A belief that life is an echo — you get what you give.

A belief that we are all one — there is no other.