STORYTIME TAPESTRY

The Newsletter devoted to spreading love and cultural awareness throughout the world

Special Treat ??“ Carol Roach 

July 10,  2005 

The Email

Carol Roach

I just had a very bad exchange with an email correspondent. The details are not important; suffice to say I felt I was being a friend to this person. I was really trying to accommodate her while thinking of others who would be involved in our interchange.

Instead of taking the email as it was intended she choose to view me as the enemy when all I wanted to do was be her friend.

These are the feelings I hold in the here and now!

I am shocked. I did not expect the email that I received from her at all. I was not prepared. It took my breath away. It threw me into a state of confusion, a state of not understanding how anyone could have taken the words I wrote and twist them around to have a negative meaning.

I am wounded. I gave my heart only to have it stepped on with big army boots. I was no longer the friend extending my hand to comfort and nurture, but I was now the villain, the enemy, the evil that needed to be quashed, eradicated, exterminated, and written out of this woman??™s life forever.

I am angry. I feel my blood pressure rise. My heartbeat is pulsing rapidly. I feel the thump, thump, thump, in my head. My ears feel very hot and they sting me. My anger is building and rising to the top like a volcano about to explode. I am a damn that is about to burst and let out tons of water; water that too is meant to destroy, to retaliate, to get back and get even. I linger in this flood of feelings, this sewer of emotions which have consumed me, but I am not happy. I do not like what I am experiencing. It does not feel good. It does not nourish my soul.

I feel crushed. I feel that this person has wronged me. She has cut off my inspirational ability for today. I had so much planned. Now the writing muse is buried under mountains of anger, frustration, and despair. I don??™t see how I can do the daily exercise? I don??™t see how I can write the next chapter of my book? I am not in the right frame of mind. I am useless.

But am I helpless? Is there no hope? There is always hope, without it, there is no life, no purpose, no reason for living. Will I let this person rob me of my very essence, of my very soul?

I will not, I will fight back. But I will not fight back with angry words. I am not the soldier who is trained to destroy. I am the soldier of love, joy, peace, and understanding.

I will gather strength among my minions. I demand to come out of this negative place. I choose to rise triumphant. I write an email to a friend, someone who is very close to the situation. I must vent, I must expel these negative emotions. I cannot let them churn inside of me, festering away at me, eating out my internal organs until they rot my flesh and the very core of my being.

The return email sheds light on the situation. It provides me with information I did not have before. It clarifies some of the reasons why this person was so angry with me; even though I still was blameless. I begin to understand from her point of view, what would make her so angry.

This new information lightens the burden that is upon my spirit. I feel less of the weight. The anger is starting to dissipate. The initial rush of emotions has subsided. My blood pressure is no longer racing, my ears no longer burn and sting, my head is no longer thumping. All that is left is a dull ache which reflects the depth of my wound. My stomach is still churning. My inner being is signaling that I must restore my equilibrium, the assault was great, the wound was deep, but the battle is not yet lost. I must recoup my forces, I must rejuvenate, I must self medicate.

I sit quietly and shut out all thoughts which may be tricksters waiting to catch me at every turn. I empty my mind. I purposely gather my anger, my hurt, and my frustration together into a big ball. I transfer all the feelings anchored in my body to this big red flaming ball. I watch the ball in my mind get bigger and bigger. The feelings are no longer within me. They are within this ball of doom and despair. The feelings can no longer consume me; they are no longer part of me. I envision the ball leaving my body; sailing away into the sunset, and I gave it the sailor??™s last farewell.

Carol Roach

winterose@videotron.ca

A Native of Montreal, Quebec, Carol is a graduate of Concordia, and McGill University.  She holds a bachelor in psychology and a masters in counselling psychology.  Carol Roach is a published writer and newsletter editor.  You can purchase her book: Picking up the Pieces: A Woman's Journey at www.publishamerica.com, or www.amazon.com.  You can also go to your local bookstore and order it there as well.  Carol has now finished her second novel and currently looking for a publisher. 

If you are interested in other stories feel free to join her newsletter: Storytime Tapestry at: http://subs.zinester.com/98907 , or email her directly at winterose@videotron.ca and she will be glad to accommodate you.  Carol enjoys email and responds to every inquiry.