The Healing Power of Anger

Well, I now have two readers. Incredible. As this was supposed to be an anonymous blog (so that I can't be googled and have my often angry/controversial musings used against me in my job search - this also explains my new Spawn-free facebook pict), I'm hoping that knowing people actually read this won't affect the sincerity of my writing (or my complete lack of attention to typos and poor grammar). But onto the topic at hand...

In my old position as a postdoc, I was angry all of the time. Literally. I thought about my work constantly - it was the first thing I thought about when I woke up and the last thing I thought about when I went to bed. I dreamed about experimental design, paper writing, and mouse colony revenge. I jotted down ideas on napkins at my friend's weddings, in restaurants, and in bars when my liquid inspiration would kick in. I even was thinking about my work when I was in labor with the Spawn. And my work made me angry - very angry -- Mt. St. Helens angry.

I hated being angry. I hated complaining to the Breadwinner for hours at night about how much I hated my job, my coworkers (who were obviously subpar), my boss (who actually was quite wonderful in retrospect). I hated the tedium, the failed experiments, the endless stress. I would wake up angry that I had to go in and inject a mouse with chemotherapy on a Sunday morning, or Christmas day (yes, I was there on Christmas day). I would go to bed angry that I had stayed late in lab (with all of my coworkers at home) for an experiment that didn't work. I would yell and bitch and complain - and feel secretly proud that I could deal with all of the crap and still be successful. I guess it was a macho thing.

But you know what - I miss being angry. It gives me a certain adreniline, a sense of purpose, some confidence. My my dear editor boss (also very nice) came to talk to me about the "language" that I had added about copyright in a manuscript on Friday, I got angry for the first time in this job. Because, honestly, it was legally fine and who really cares at the end of the day what copyright language is in a manuscript. Maybe somebody, but not me. I did not spend 4 years in college, 6 years in my PhD, and 2 years as a postdoc working my butt off and sacrificing my social life so that I could be talked to about copyright language in a manuscript. I was trained to think analytically and critically, to focus on the big picture as well as small details, and I'm doing that. But I want to work on something that I think is IMPORTANT. And you know what - when I realized that I was angry - I missed it. I miss being angry all of the time. I miss having the passion about something to not be completely flat - to actually have an extremely over-reactive response about nothing. I miss all of the horrible crap about the lab, not because I liked it, but because it was worth it. Every single second of anger was worth it. Eureka.