Hell Hath No Fury
On my roaming through the summer I found some rest and some rage.
We’re told that, “Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned." Actually the full quotation is,
Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned, nor hell a fury like a woman scorned.
I like this idea of a raging heaven. I’ve come to think that nirvana is perhaps a more turbulent place than we typically assume. It seems wishful thinking to me that all the dead souls are always happy, including the glorified ones - maybe even angelic, paragons of virtue get riotously angry now and again.
The playwright William Congreve wrote the famous line for his character Zara, in the play ‘The Mourning Bride’. He was evoking the power of anger through a woman who’d been rejected in love. The proverb has endured for nearly 500 years, I suspect because many before me and many after will feel ferociously enraged that their love is lost. By evoking heaven and hell this line brings a terrifyingly real intensity to my own experience of betrayal.
I feel betrayed by the Universe. I am so angry at the cosmos right now, I could give it a vicious hiding. If only I could get a hold of it …
I feel like a warrior ready to storm the battlements, or a smouldering dragon, ready to burn the house down. Heaven has no rage like this betrayed wife. How dare you take him from me. Unexpectedly hot in my feeling of treachery is a rage I feel on behalf of my dead husband. Over the quiet weeks of the summer holiday, while my body lazed in a lack of morning routine my subconscious got to work. Mark visited me in dreams. He repeatedly showed up, almost everywhere we went, he was viscerally with us. And as a result I have understood how very much he did not want to die.
He did not want to leave this behind. To leave pain in his children feels like a betrayal to him; it feels like failure to him. My heart believes that he is grieving too. My soul is livid on his behalf.
Know Thyself
Older still is the maxim, “know thyself,” from the ancient Greek temple of Delphi. Since before Plato, we’ve known the value of examining one’s soul, understanding one’s place in the world, knowing ones limits, and realising that each of us is mortal.
In the space and time which this summer gave us, gradually my heart released one of its hardest truths. I feel very deeply betrayed by Life. I am OK, but I am not OK about what Life has done to me. Actually, I am very cross about it. I feel let down by the Universe or whoever else took my husband away from me.
Anger is an uncomfortable emotion. Although I’m less bothered by what people think of my rage than ever before. I have the courage to be disliked, almost everywhere. Simply put, I could not give a damn about anything or anyone - I can see how that would be possible. Except for my children. For my children’s well-being, which in association includes my own well-being, I am very motivated to fight back. It’s both liberating and terrifying to feel one’s soul roar.
I do not want to fill a room with fear, trauma, or sadness. Especially not if my kids are in the building. They don’t like to see me sad or angry. Nearly nobody does. That’s why I believe bereavement therapy is crucial for me, and people like me. I need a space to put the feelings which can’t otherwise be said out loud.
My job is to help leaders recognise their strengths, limitations, and values. Given my training, it’s almost impossible for me not to do that introspection on myself. I tried to take a break from it over the summer, but I literally could not turn off my inner awareness. And now, I’m aware that I am very, very angry. Which means that I’m constantly self-managing. Why? Why am I protecting anyone else?
Because I’m a parent, my team are my children, my friends, and my family. I can’t just go around scorching everyone in my path. Not least because it would leave me loveless and lonely, which is the opposite of what I want. But also because leadership is the ability to build and maintain a high-performing team. It requires safe spaces, not burned waste grounds. It would be counterproductive to my nature to annihilate the growth I’ve worked so hard to nurture over the last year. At a purely rational level I know that only love is left behind. Wisdom meets feeling in our relationships, and our loved ones are everything. And so, I must now learn to channel my anger effectively away from those who feel safe around me. Even if it’s not yet obvious where it will go.
Taming The Shrew
During the summer we visited Spain, Portugal, Sweden, Norfolk and Shakespeare’s home town, Stratford-on-Avon. We were busy, it was fun. Shakespeare wrote a comedy about Katerina, the spoiled daughter of a rich man, who was required to tame her temper in her marriage to Petruchio. In other words, wild Kate, “the shrew” is forced to “tame” herself to her husband’s will. Throughout the play she’s described as a small beast - a wasp, hawk, hen, dove - although let’s not forget that this little rodent can bite the leg off a horse or cow. “If I be waspish, best beware my sting.” Is there a funny side to Shakespeare’s comedy? Not really, but it does offer an insight into the ancient shame of being a defiant, wild, angry woman.
This infamous play still lingers in the shadows of acceptable norms. Big name films when I was growing up, such as ‘10 Things I Hate About You’ and ‘Miss Congeniality’ are arguably remakes of the same themes. Katerina’s last lines in the play are
I am ashamed that women are so simple
To offer war where they should kneel for peace,
Or seek for rule, supremacy, and sway
When they are bound to serve, love, and obey. …In token of which duty, if he please,
My hand is ready, may it do him ease.
In the end it seems as though Katerina learns to be submissive, encouraging other women to “kneel for peace”. But I can’t help hearing the echos of what it means to have sovereignty in those words - rule, supremacy, serve, love, and obey. In our collective social subconscious we may still prefer comfortable civility to unruly, strong-minded, vocal, dissent. Authentic, angry expression still risks being dismissed as bitter or unreasonable. Just as vulnerability is not yet perceived as a strength in men, the power of emotional intelligence is also diminished, especially when that feeling is perceived as negative, difficult or painful. And yet change requires that we pay close attention to our own emotions, and give them sovereignty.
Ryne Sherman studied the relationship between personality, how people act and how happy they feel, based on their sense of authenticity. Their hypothesis was that behaviour which aligns with personality should feel the most authentic. But that’s not what the data showed. There was no association between acting in-line with your personality and feeling happy. When people act most like themselves, they don’t necessarily feel authentic. Socially desirable ways of behaving, for instance being friendly, productive, or creative, affect our sense of contentment. When we act in a way which we think is ‘best’ we feel happier. It’s our ability to adapt to our situation which informs our satisfaction.
There is hope. Earlier in the play Katerina says,
Forward, I pray, since we have come so far,
And be it moon, or sun, or what you please.
And if you please to call it a rush candle,
Henceforth I vow it shall be so for me.
Perhaps she is not wholly unthinking and obedient at the end? This is a tactical agreement which helps her to achieve what she wants. It’s also the appropriate behaviour, given the circumstances of her torture. Acting for the collective benefit of yourself, your family, your team, and organisation may mean adjusting your authenticity. And that’s OK, as long as that doesn’t require you to abandon your values or core beliefs. The question then, is how long can you sustain the stretch of self-expression?
Versatility
Even though people like to think that “being authentic” means being their “best self”, that might not be true all of the time. If I was to be myself right now I’d shout and scream a lot. And I’d probably do someone some harm. That damage may get left behind, and that’s not a risk I’m unwilling to take. While roaming about this summer I realised that there’s a difference between authentic self-management, for the sake of something good, and just going along with things, to keep the peace, and maintain social appeasement.
My authentic impulse needs to be managed for three good reasons, with one job title - Mummy. The fourth good reason is that I don’t want to upset others; I don’t want to become a bitter widow. I’m willing to make others uncomfortable, and it’s not my aim, so I try not to let my furious feelings out in public. Which means flying in the atmosphere between not communicating and replenishing myself with space, or speaking my truth and risk revealing my roaring raw pain. It doesn’t mean I don’t show my feelings anywhere. It also doesn’t mean that I hide my emotions everywhere - it’s just that my authentic, soul-scale rage has to be held back. Just a little.
Adapting to our emotional environment can expand our capacity to lead. Leaders who understand how stress affects them can improve their productivity and motivate their teams more effectively. Learning to manage our own behaviour, using our strengths, and relying on the skills of others, helps us to become more versatile. So does trying new things. In under a year I’ve become a taxi driver, travel agent, child psychologist, short-order chef, financial planner, DIY hobbyist, accountant, probate solicitor, health advocate, football fan, and outdoor pursuits instructor. These various functions have forced me to become more flexible than I ever would have previously imagined. Like trying to walk on perilously slippery black ice, and constantly falling into the splits. I’ve been physically strained into a shape which feels unnatural to me. It hurts to learn to be flexible.
It’s also deeply, deeply exhausting. No wonder I slept through my alarm this morning. Tending to my pain, managing my anger, and caring for our loss, over months is depleting me. Being generously hosted this summer by friends and family meant I could rest. I took myself away, travelled alone, with friends, and with the kids. We shrieked on rollercoasters, cried ugly tears, celebrated ourselves, swam in many seas and lakes. I was cooked for, cared for, planned for, and thought of … It was the best possible way anyone could help us. We loved being invited places and looked after. In these various spaces the four of us were able to feel how we’re really doing.
I observed then how my strength gets depleted. I found my anger. And I continue to be grateful for all that we have now. We’re home, back to school, and working again, we need to embed some more versatile ways to sustain our movement onwards. For me, one of those practises needs to physically address my inner rage. Bottom line, this woman needs to go hit something hellishly hard.
"There is nothing stronger than a broken woman who has rebuilt herself." ~ Hannah Gadsby
Your writing and reflections are accurate honest and authentic as always. Well done you for leading your team through the summer. Im here for you if you ever need a non judgmental punch bag.