I came into the Leptich’s house, went in the kitchen, Oprah was on, overweight teens confronting their emotions, so I watched for a moment. They went into this exercise led by this woman called “I’m angry that” which can be used find out what people are really angry about deep down.
She pulled a kid out of the group and asked to finish the sentence and yelled “I’m angry at !” at her and the girl went off. Soon these deep feeling of rejection, self-consciousness, suicidal thoughts, and all else came out and she was crying and venting a volcano of repressed feelings. Another Kid did it, and soon I was crying right along.
I can be like a middle-aged wife left home alone to clean the floor and cry over Oprah in the afternoon. I can’t handle the whole ‘standing in the face of other human’s real sorrow’ thing. I get it from my mom, who bawls over movies about real wars and battles, where people really did lose their lives. The reality of what it must be like hits me and, in my empathy, I soon breakdown like a weenie of the month.
But I’m not angry that I can breakdown over this stuff.
I’m angry that people have to go through such nightmares.