Of Course They Knew

a creative writing edition (#12)

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Context: my relationship to anger is weird, disordered, and confusing. I get frustrated easily. Frustration is certainly a subset of anger. And I get angry in a general sense easily, about bullshit in the news or stupidity done/said by politicians, for example. In a specific sense—the sense of getting angry at a particular person for a particular offense—I only occasionally experience anger at anyone but myself. When I do, it rarely lasts long. It usually only takes a few minutes to find a way to return to being angry at myself. This is probably a consequence of trauma; getting angry as a kid resulted in violence.

Yesterday I got angry about something specific, at particular people, which is rare enough that I wanted to explore it in writing.

Of Course They Knew

The Bible says that life and death are in the power of the tongue.

For a kid growing up in a quasi-cult that interpreted this verse in unique ways, one consequence was that words, even the words of children, were elevated to the point of magic.

If magic was real, how would we describe it? If, as in the Harry Potter novels, people existed who could wave a wand and utter a spell to achieve an objective, what would you say when a child asked you, “What’s magic?” Here’s what I would say:

“Magic is the power that makes something happen when we use our words and will.”

I was sent to cut a switch once when I said, about an elderly lady in our church who was in the hospital being treated for cancer, “If Miss Betty Lou passes away before Christmas, she can tell Jesus about our play for His birthday!”

My assumption that she was going to die, and soon, was deserving of punishment because it was a misuse of my power. I was “speaking death” over her, when it was my responsibility to only and always “speak life.”

Verbal reprimands were more common than corporal punishment for this particular offense, but both happened with some regularity. Speaking in a way that even allowed for the possibility of a negative outcome was treated as if the intent was to cause the negative outcome: as if a child had such power at all, much less with a child’s mere words.

This dynamic came to mind yesterday, in between taking a nap and leaving for therapy, when I was writing myself a letter.

I write myself letters a lot.

Occasionally I even mail them.