I Am a Woman Who Notices… and Does Something

There was something sitting just under the surface this morning.

Anger.

Not loud.
Not consuming.
But there.

And what struck me wasn’t that it existed…

but that I could see it.

The Flash of Anger

I grew up with anger.

And I also grew up as a happy little girl.

That’s what feels important to say.

Because both were true.

Even in the midst of things no child should witness…
I was still light.
Still smiling.
Still called sunshine.

But somewhere around 12 or 13, something shifted.

The anger took the lead.
The bitterness followed.

I disconnected—from God, from hope, from the idea that I wasn’t already too damaged.

And now… here I am.

Years later.

And what I notice is this:

The anger doesn’t run me anymore.

But sometimes… it flashes.

Quick.
Sharp.
Reactive.

Usually when I’m not centered.
When I’m deep in thought.
When something jolts me out of my internal world—
like my dogs running off or losing a ball in the dark field.

And there it is.

That snap.

That old version of me.

But here’s what’s different:

I see it.

I catch it.

I acknowledge it.

And instead of pretending it’s not there…
I’m ready to heal it.

Because…

I am a woman who, when I notice something, does something.

Even when it’s a hard truth about myself.

The Protest

Yesterday, I went to a protest.

And what I witnessed stayed with me.

Not just what people were protesting—
but how people were being.

There was a woman.

Small in stature, but enormous in presence.

Standing in the middle of hundreds—maybe thousands—
of people who believed very differently than she did.

She was surrounded by police.

And I remember thinking…
Is this where we are now?

She was angry.
Fierce.
Unshaken.

Saying things that felt extreme—
fueled by narratives I don’t recognize as truth.

And still…

I saw something deeper.

I saw fear.
I saw a woman who believed she was protecting her children.

And then I saw something else.

A man following her with a sign.

He wasn’t saying anything—
but he knew it was provoking her.

And I watched how quickly a crowd can form.

How fast righteous anger can start to build.

And in that moment, I had a choice.

To get pulled in…
or to stay grounded.

Most of us walked away.

Not because we agreed.

But because we weren’t there to harm.

And just as quickly as the moment formed…
it dissolved.

The crowd dispersed.
The tension softened.

Gigi and I continued walking the protest,
looping back through the same areas—

and there was no escalation.
No aftermath.
No lingering charge.

Just people returning to themselves.

And that stayed with me.

Because even in a space built on love…
we are not immune to becoming what we oppose.

But yesterday, I witnessed something else too:

We didn’t feed it.

What Is Actually Being Asked of Us

Later, a man approached me about my sign:

“If it’s not love, it’s not Jesus.”

He was excited.
Affirming.
Certain.

And I said to him:

There are two laws that override everything:

Love God.
Love your neighbor as yourself.

That’s it.

Not complicated.

Not conditional.

Not political.

And our neighbor?

Is anyone in need.

Even the ones we don’t understand.
Even the ones who scare us.
Even the ones who are angry.

Because if love only applies to people who agree with us…

It’s not love.

Dancing in the Street

And then…

I danced.

In the street.

Without permission.
Without waiting.
Without wondering if anyone else would join.

I just… danced.

And when I wanted to chant, I did.

Not because someone started it—
but because it felt true in my body.

There was a moment with my friend.

She started a chant that didn’t feel aligned for me.

Not wrong.
Just… not mine.

And I told her.

Gently.
Honestly.

Without making her wrong.

Without abandoning myself.

That felt important too.

Because love doesn’t mean agreement.

It means truth… held with care.

What I Know Now

I used to think anger was something I had to fight.

Now I see it differently.

It’s information.

It’s a signal.

It’s something that rises…

and can pass…

if I don’t attach to it.

And what I saw yesterday—
in myself… in others… in that woman…

is this:

We are all capable of anger.

But we are also capable of choosing something else.

And what surprised me most?

Anger wasn’t leading me.

It wasn’t even close.

I showed up in love.

I stayed in love.

I left in love.

And that doesn’t mean I didn’t have thoughts.
Or opinions.
Or convictions.

It means I didn’t lose myself in them.

I could observe.
Pause.
Choose.

And maybe that’s what this is really about.

Not being right.

Not winning.

Not overpowering.

But becoming the kind of woman who can stand in the middle of all of it…

and still choose love.

I am far more love than anger.

And that feels like truth.

And remember…
you are so loved.