As a kid, anger was my energy.
My father left, my family struggled to find stability, and I believed the world would continue to punish me.
I chose vengeance. If the world wouldn’t accept me, protect me, support me — then I would have to do it myself. For me and my family.
Anger pushed me to work. It became discipline. It helped me build a different life for my mom and myself.
Anger is a powerful fuel.
But it’s also dirty.
I closed to the world. I cursed it and the people in it. Life was empty.
And then, the anger was gone.
I had food, water, and shelter. I had opportunity, purpose, and praise. I had people who loved me and who I loved back.
I was lucky. What was there to be angry about?
I began to heal, and I lost the force that drove me.
I found a new one. The world—and my people in it—showed me a new one.
It was love, care, and a desire to serve.
I wanted to be of use and make life full for others.
Hurt people have to heal people.
I am grateful to that hurt boy because his anger kept me moving.
His anger, in the end, healed me.