The different ways I've felt anger have evolved throughout my life. As a child, when I felt anger, I reacted immediately. I would scream, trash my room, throw things, and so on. I reacted so fast, I don't remember physical feelings.

As a preteen, I still reacted quickly. One time my brother made me so mad, I punched him in the mouth and then ran for my life. I could feel the anger in my face. It felt tight, stone-like.

When I was 19, my other brother violated me, and everyone laughed. I screamed for him to get off me. I ended up punching him as hard as I could at his sides. He finally got off and sustained bruised kidneys. He went to sit at the table and laughed it all off. I stood there, staring at him. My face felt so hot. My eyes squinted, and I threw mental daggers at him. My jaw was clenched. My right hand was in a fist, my nails digging into my skin. My fist began to sweat and shake. I clenched it so hard, my knuckles turned white. I wanted to knock his block off so bad. I didn't because I didn't want to be arrested for assault. So instead, I ran out of the house, and took off for a couple hours. I went to a little diner, and ordered a salad. I was still fuming and gave a $5 tip for a $4.99 salad.

Now, at age 39, I process anger differently. I've become a hard person to anger. I'm fairly patient. But my most recent experience came when I saw a documentary about a young man who was suicidal. His girlfriend encouraged him to end his life. He went to go do it. Set up his vehicle with a hose from the tail pipe to the window. The truck was running. He got out, having second thoughts. His girlfriend yelled at him, saying, "Get back in!"

That not only angered me, it infuriated me! All at one time, I felt anger, fury, disgust, hatred, and horror. I had never been so angry with someone I had never met. So, when the shock wore off, I chewed on my anger for a while. I need to know why it made me angry, and how can I remedy it.

My face still turns to stone. My ears get flaming red when I'm really angry. I can feel the blood pulsing through them. I purse my lips so tightly, it's hard to tell I even have lips. My eyes squint and dart back and forth as if I'm looking for an answer somewhere in front of me.

But I don't react or lash out anymore. In some cases, I'll smile to the one who angered me and just say, "Ok." And then I'll walk away with that smile on my face. Believe it or not, doing that diminishes the physical symptoms of anger.

I've learned that most people that anger me are not worth getting angry at in the first place. A lot of people thrive in drama. Not me. I might voice my opinion, but I won't yell. I won't scream. I won't get violent. I try to live by the quote: "Kill them with kindness." It counfuses people so much. It's hilarious, and it works!

The very word illicits uncomfortable feelings in me. I liken it to a dirty word. It makes me cringe inside. I didn't always feel that way, though.

I used to be a champion liar. I spoke and wrote lies like it was okay. I didn't have any moral objections back then. The lies flowed out of my mouth effortlessly.

"Did you eat dinner?"

"Yes." (no)

"Did you throw up after?"

"Of course not!" (yes, I did)

Not only did I tell verbal lies, I wrote lies as well. I skipped school all the time. Ostracized by all the students in my high school since my freshman year, why wouldn't I skip school? A note from your parent or guardian explaining your absence was obligatory. Of course.

But did I admit to my parents that I skipped school? Heck no!

Enter forgery. I got good at it. Varying signatures ever so slightly is normal. Exact copies raise suspiscion. I forged notes all the time and got away with every single one.

I'm ashamed now to admit, I took advantage of the trust I had earned.

I continued to lie after graduation. My eating disorder still full speed ahead demanded lies. But at some point in time, the frequency of my fibs decreased. Three years out of high school I got married and had my first son. I didn't find any occasion that needed a lie. Not that I was looking for one.

As I started sharing my eating disorder journey, I told people how much lying was involved. I even smiled and declared myself a great liar. "I was so good at it!" And let me tell you, that is not something you should be proud of.

Nowadays, I really try not to lie. I don't want to be a liar. And to be truthful with you all, I slip sometimes. Mostly out of panic. Realistically, who doesn't lie from time to time? I would never believe anyone who says, "I never lie." Even little fibs are technically lies. And little white lies? Big or not, they're still lies.

But, is it ever okay to lie? The answer to that is purely personal. If it were me, I'd lie if it meant safety for someone.

I'd lie if it meant meeting the basic needs of someone.

I won't lie to save someone's ass from jail.

I won't lie to spare someone from punishment.

I won't lie if I am at fault for something.

Perhaps most importantly, I won't lie about who I am as an individual.

Determining when it's ok to lie is up to you. Your morals and principles may differ from mine. There is no concrete answer.

This might be a good time to start thinking about if you've never thought about it. You may be faced with a hard situation someday. A hard decision. I'd encourage you to go over every scenario you can think of and ask yourself, "Would I lie in this situation?"

Looking at it head on, you're reminded of your mortality. It's vast. There's no end to it. It rages. It's calm. It's deafening and quiet.

It's stunning. Humans could not survive if it ever dried up.

It can deceive you. Be not fooled. Educate yourself about it. Learn its patterns.

Don't go in fully confident. It's very unforgiving.

Respect it. For God's sake, respect it; it sure doesn't respect you.

"The first draft of anything is shit." - Ernest Hemingway

Though I know this, this quote encourages me when I feel like what I'm writing is crap. The first draft is a mangled, jagged, soup of words. Handwritten, corrections, edits, and notes make the draft look like the unorganized notes of a scientist.

The important thing in the beginning is that I understand it.

The most important thing is that the reader understands it. If the reader does understand what's being conveyed, mission accomplished.