On anger

Over the years, I feel as if I am becoming increasingly embittered. Living in the capital the excesses of the disconnect between the rich and the poor are thrust in your face on a daily basis. In the area I live, whose gentrification over the last decade I have no doubt been part of, seems to be overtaking me. I can no longer afford to shop in the artisanal butchers and drink coffee accompanied by £4 biscuits, for all my house has nearly doubled in value on the two years I have lived there. I still have a postage stamp backyard – and feel grateful for it.

Families, in London, are largely fucked. And partly this is because of the brutal work culture that is on us. Few of us have job security, and though it’s easy enough to leap onto the next project, often accompanied by a fair chunk of wedge, the pay rise makes it easier to justify getting rid of you, if you fall somehow below par, you discover an enemy within the ranks, or can’t keep up with the ruthless hours of the unencumbered.

As a young mother, perhaps I have felt this much more than if I had waited a few years to feel a bit more secure in my career. As it is, it has been a hands down uphill struggle. At times, I feel defeated. With each knockback, it feels harder to pull yourself back up, slap on a smile, and admit it might be partly your fault. But in a world where recriminations are pointless, you just have to play the game. And that means standing and fighting.

Here, is where the anger comes in handy. It gives you the energy and conviction to keep going, even when you feel like you have pummeled to within an inch of your life. if gives you the strength to get up in the morning, to reach for the yoga mat instead of your rolling mat, to go to bed early, so you can put your best face forward the next day. Anger is a useful emotion, as long as it doesn’t turn into nihilism.

I have a lot of sympathy for self-destructive types. Given my background, it would be too easy to turn my violence inwards. I have in the past. I have written about suicidal thoughts, the will to end it all through the back door, smoking, drinking and partying myself into an early grave. Dangerously, I had children young to stem these tendencies, to try and give myself the very best reason for not giving up, and keeping calm and carrying on. it doesn’t always work, but eight out of ten times, I  manage it.

These days I huff an e-fag like it’s going out of fashion. I even gave it up, but at times of stress, it is a reasonably benign crutch on which to lay my weary soul. The thing is, they will kick you when you’re down, so thing is to take it on the chin, offer up the other cheek, and look to Google for inspiration while hoping for the best.