Dormant

 This morning, I walked into work

feeling good about myself.

I met a colleague on her walk.
She shared some news about her health.
I told her I was sorry about her troubles.

Then she began to talk about office politics.

And something in me cracked open.

I get triggered a lot.

It feels like there is a volcano of rage inside me.
This is, of course, unprocessed anger.

The rage needs only a small tip-off.
And then—burning hot lava.

It can erupt in any area of my life.
And it can relocate itself into any area of my life.

Work — injustice.
Home — abandonment.
Love — snapping.
Siblings — bullying.
Authority figures — injustice, again.

Same lava.
Same volcano.
Only the landscape changes.

Feeling taken for granted.
Used.
Thrown away.

These are intense.

There is nothing that truly douses the fire.
It goes dormant.
And then it comes back.

Like a pressure cooker, it builds.
With nowhere for the pressure to go.

Anger that wasn’t allowed.
Protest that wasn’t safe.
Boundaries that weren’t respected.
Pain that had to stay quiet.

So the question keeps returning:

What do we do with these volcanoes?

Maybe the work isn’t to stop the volcano,
but to give the pressure somewhere to go
before it burns everything in its path.

_________________________________________________________________________

Please Read

This is private writing shared intentionally and with care.
Kindly do not reproduce, quote, or share this post in any form without permission.

The work here is ongoing and may be developed into a future publication.