The Rage of an Elder

It’s raw, powerful, deep, and authentic. Not cute. Not cranky.

Anger. Rage. Powerful. Raw. Real. 

And I have it. It is part of my being, and I am grateful.

I am 70 now. Although I choose my battles more carefully, as time becomes more precious each day, there are still times that I can be filled with righteous rage. 

Of course, I let minor things go, as it is not worth fighting all the battles all the time. Wisdom can teach us which battles to choose.

There is much in the world that I feel rage about. 

Governments that seem to forget that they are working for the people.

 Battles and wars that senselessly take precious lives. 

Shootings in schools. Young innocent lives lost that never got a chance to live. Families with wounds that may never heal. 

Homelessness. Hunger. Poverty. Loss of basic human rights. Cruelty to each other, to animals, to the earth. 

The earth is slowly being destroyed. Its creatures are becoming extinct. Climate disasters are happening worldwide.

 The loss of a sense of safety in the world. Violent crime rising everywhere. Having to be constantly vigilant of who may be around us wherever we go. 

And there are more personal times when anger flares. Times when a line has been crossed. Times that I need to let it be known that I am still very much here, engaged in life, full of passion and intensity. And I will not be treated disrespectfully. I will not allow violations of my dignity. Not from others, and not from myself. Not speaking up when I need to can be a way of disrespecting myself. 

I can understand someone having a bad day, or having so much going on at the time that they may behave less than kindly. But I do not have to be the one to make those excuses for anyone. If they let me know what is going on, I can soften. I don’t have to take care of others before they even let me know what’s going on with them.

We have a gut reaction that tells us that something that may have just happened is not ok. Boundaries need to be drawn. We need to let others know that whatever just occurred somehow violated something inside of us and brought our inner fire to the surface. 

That fire burns no less brightly in elderhood.

As elders, our anger can at times be portrayed as less than somehow. It can be referred to as cranky, irritable, cute. 

That enrages me. 

I am, for the most part, a quiet and calm person. So, when I get angry and let it be known, it can get noticed. Sometimes in my youth my rare expressions of anger would make people take a step back. My power became evident. My line in the sand was drawn. A surprise from this normally quiet and calm person. 

Do not assume that what you see on the surface is all that there is. 

Do not assume that about a quiet person. 

Do not assume that about a woman. 

And do not assume that about an elder. 

Indeed, if anything, we are more familiar with our emotions, having lived with them longer. And hopefully we are wiser as to where and when to express them. I will not waste my intensity where it is not heard or seen.

 And I will not mute my rage to make others more comfortable. I will not sit quietly when something is not right with me. Especially when someone has hurt me or someone that I care about in a way that was unnecessary.

Sometimes people laugh when I get angry, try to diminish my reaction, tell me to lighten up, ask me if I cannot take a joke. 

My response to all that? No, I can’t take a joke. Not when it is at my own expense.

Hostile teasing is hostile. 

Passive aggressive is aggressive. 

If anything, indirect attacks can be more confusing, more subtle, leaving us with a feeling that something wasn’t quite right, although sometimes we may not be able to name it in the moment. 

That’s ok. We can name it when we become aware and clearer about it. It takes practice. It takes tuning into yourself. It takes standing up for yourself. It takes paying attention to that feeling in your gut that is letting you know that something is not right, that something bothered you. 

Honoring my anger doesn’t mean that I will go out and intentionally hurt anyone or run screaming down the street (although I must admit there are times when running screaming down the street seems to be the most authentic response to some of the insanity in this world these days and all the craziness that comes toward us.)

Honoring my anger means that I am done being treated as less than. I am done being discounted and cast aside. 

I am done being constantly interrupted when I speak. I am done not being heard in meetings or groups as much as men may be heard, and now, at times, as much as those younger than I, may be heard. 

A quieter, softer voice is still powerful and can have much to say. My voice, as well as my rage, does not have to be loud to be powerful. 

I am done with not being paid attention to at the doctor’s office.

I am done being categorized and not listened to when I walk into the mechanic’s shop.

I am done being treated as a lesser human being, as one who is not vibrantly living life, but rather categorized as one who may be merely waiting to die. 

We are all going to die. I may be ahead of others, but we are all in that line. And, while I am here on this earth, I still have things to say, life to live, feelings to express. My soul to acknowledge and my spirit to let shine.

Can we begin to really hear the experience in the voice of an elder? The wisdom? The lessons learned from years lived. The lessons that we can share with others to perhaps help ease the road ahead with some tips that might be useful. Can we hear their anger and what it might have to teach us? What it is trying to get us to pay attention to? That it exists for a reason and deserves to be heard and acknowledged. 

Perhaps if we get better at acknowledging and naming our dark side, the feelings that can often be categorized (wrongly so, in my opinion) as being negative and less than, then maybe we won’t have to act those feelings out. Maybe we can name them, respect them, listen to what they might be telling us that we need. And move on. 

I know that not everyone will choose to hear me. That’s ok. And I can also choose whom to have in my life. Whom to include. Whom to share this precious soul with, as I also listen to their voice and their feelings from deep inside. 

I feel kindness deeply. I feel compassion deeply. I feel love deeply. I feel sadness and grief deeply. 

 I feel rage deeply. All are embers from the same fire burning within. If I try and ignore and dampen one, I dampen them all. And I then dampen my life, and my one chance to be authentically all that I can be. 

Does that lion in the photo above look like it would dampen itself? 

I don’t think so.