Anger

I'm angry. Well, not infuriated or pissed off, just angry. My ex husband was employed by a huge crafting workshop. He did not take advantage of that amazing workshop to make good things. I acknowledge I shouldn't be angry, but I am. It was such a good job. Not only could he use all the tools, and have access to the professionals in those tools, but he didn't take advantage of the free education they provided.

It's done. He's gone from my life. But I would have loved that job. I wanted him to take advantage of it to get the amount of joy I feel making things. It is a joy to create.

Digging up old pain does nothing. I can still use that anger to make myself grateful that I have access to a workshop and a boyfriend who knows his craft.

I've been making a mug of wood. Joe was making one too, but it was ruined to no Fault of his own. I'm angry that the wood warped and cracked. I wanted to make something with him. I would have rathered have had both our mugs break, and I couldn't tell you why. I love my new mug, but I suppose making something together was sort of romantic.

I can use that anger to remind myself that he taught me a great skill and showed his love through teaching. He loves me and I know it.

I'm angry at myself for not being able to fast for more than 27 hours. I'm angry I can't give up ciggarettes, or even want to. I'm angry that I can't keep a clean house.

I can use this anger to spur me forward into helping me quit doing shit that doesn't need to be done and doing the stuff that does.