I am angry.
It’s hard for me to admit that. I’ve written in the recent past — here and here — about the reasons for this, so I’m not going to waste time explaining the reasons again.
I spent most of my 45-minute drive home from the office on the phone. As I locked the office door, I made a phone call that I thought would take 60 seconds, but it dragged on and on. As I finally pulled into the parking lot of a restaurant for dinner, I realized that my muscles were tight and my jaw was clenched.
I felt incredibly angry. It wasn’t anger about anything that had just happened. It was more long-repressed anger seeping out. As I turned the car off and sat in the fading twilight for a few moments, I felt a rush of irrational anger and misery.
I wanted to explode. I wanted to cry. I wanted to angrily scream out to ask somebody why life doesn’t work the way I was taught it was supposed to.

I was a terrible preacher, because cookie-cutter truth seemed empty
How could a stranger at sunset possibly know what I had to say?
When it comes to ideas, should we prefer complexity or simplicity?
Yes, I truly appreciate your flaws; they point the way to your worth
Death of classmate from past feels like a reminder to change my life
Dishonesty runs rampant when partisanship matters more than truth
‘Thanks for sharing your process’ is wiser than responding in anger