Day 189: The Grapes Of Wrath

I was thinking this morning of incidents in my life, incidents that no matter how much time elapses, I can’t seem to let go of the anger associated with these.  They are what I call my bitter staples.  They’ve become a part of me and I’m not sure I will shed them from my emotional baggage.

Still, I try.

We all have some of these residual touch points, some emanating from childhood, others surfacing later in life.  For the most part, I try to let go of stuff and it has become easier with age, but some behaviors are just not that easy to ignore.

Still, I try.

For me, these are usually associated with some sort of injustice or inexplicable action that draws my ire.  I don’t have many of these, but I do have a few and they surface during specific times of the year.

I’m carrying one of these now.  I’ve worked on myself tirelessly, hoping that I could learn to ignore this and move on – life being the short sojourn that it is, I should rather focus on the positive and not the negative.  Truly, holding on to baggage simply leaves me with overweight luggage – it does nothing to the other person who has already proven that they don’t care.  It becomes my burden.

But I’m not that lucky and perhaps I’m not that evolved – I seem to carry this pile of crap with me as I move through life.

Still, I try.

When things piss me off, they piss me off.  And, while I can do a good job of sending grudges traveling and I believe resolutely in the power of forgiveness, there are some things that start off as intolerable and eventually become unacceptable – finally, as time passes and sentiments fester, they become unforgivable.

Still, I try.

I have to make every effort to be the best self I can possibly be and while everyday gripes and emotionally stunted people can challenge my goal, I still focus on cleansing my soul, hoping that one day I can truly be the better person.

Until then, however, I will drink from this cup, letting my poison be the elixir of regret, letting my taste buds rekindle their relationship with loss and severity, letting another’s disdain guide my actions.

I will take my grapes of wrath to distill the wine of discord, creating a fermented juice of bittersweet memories and I will hold on to the inevitable anger that colors this situation.  As I draw the wine to my lips, I hope it doesn’t spill any further across the cloth of my flawed humanity.

Still, I try.

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