Enjoying The Anger

On my blog, Blugstuff, I frequently poke fun at the state of my marraige and my long suffering at the hands of my wife, ‘Angry Joyce.’ The truth of the matter is that I relish her anger and am even truly proud of the way that she is able to express it to me. It wasn’t always so.

My wife could talk to a fencepost if no one was around. She is one of those people that never meets a stranger. She is outspoken in her views and has probably only been embarrassed a handful of times in her entire lifetime. But once upon a time that was only her public persona and did not make it into our personal life.

My wife was previously married to an abusive man. At the first of our relationship, if my voice was ever raised in the slightest hint of anger, she would cower and shrink as if I had struck her. I was patient and tried to keep my voice calm and low even when I felt like a good argument was due.

In time my patience was rewarded. I recall the blush of pride that I felt when I lost my cool and let my voice ring out it’s consternation and she got right in my face and let it rip right back. She had came through the other side and knew that no matter what I said or how angry that I was that she had nothing to fear. I was not going to lash out with violence, I was not going to run away, and no matter what; my love for her was greater than any petty argument.

So yes I am married to Angry Joyce. And I am so proud of that.