Day 138 – Anger Hurts

The last few weeks have been super painful. My son’s father passed away. I have blogged about my relationship with him before and I have so much guilt for entering into a marriage with so much baggage from trauma. I was only 18 and got married to escape abuse. He also had challenges at home. We both felt it would be perfect.

Needless to say, I was not ready to be a wife. I was not even clear that what had happened to me was abuse. I just thought it was part of life that everyone endures. How wrong I was.

Anyway, as I’m discussing this whole idea of relationships with Mrs. A last night in our session, I realized that I’m not good at relationships because I have so much fear.

One of those fears is physical. Touching and hugging are sometimes triggering for me. I can do it, and I enjoy it, but sometimes I just push away. For really no reason. I guess you call it being triggered.

The fear is being suffocated, or held against my will. Or that face to face contact that seems to crowd your breathing space.

But what happened last night was a first. I got really, really angry. And this time, not at myself. Usually, I end up saying bad things about myself and blaming my little self for not fighting back. I blamed me for freezing. For not telling. For just surviving.

But as I’m discussing my broken dysfunction, I was getting more angry by the moment. I was so tense. I had my arms crossed and actually squeezed my upper arms until they are sore. My stomach muscles are even sore today.

I was sitting there thinking that I wished I could pick up something and throw it. Or scream really loud. Or even cry out to God. But I didn’t because I’m always so worried about what she will think of me and if anyone else will hear or know that I behaved uncontrollably in anger.

Most of the night, every time I drifted off to sleep, I woke up screaming or yelling out in fear. This morning, I have a headache that feels like a hangover. I was so nauseated and could barely raise my head.

So, I stayed home today. I just feel awful. And I don’t know if I like this anger thing at all. And it was more than just anger. I think I felt hate at that moment and I’m still trying to forgive myself.

Why do victims blame their self? Why do victims try to keep their anger hidden?
Mostly it’s because the perpetrator is being supported and we are the “unstable” ones who can’t move on. “It was a long time ago!, Get over it!”. God knows that I wish it was that easy.

For today – I abhor you Mr. Perpetrator and you will meet your fate. I’m sure the anger will cause me the most guilt and shame, and I’ll end up putting it back on myself. I’m sure you will continue to be liked and supported until your death. But right now, at this moment, I wish I could hold you down. Suffocate you, and make you wish you could get air into your lungs. Only then would life seem fair.

Thankfully, the God in me does not allow me to stay angry, but this is a new place in my healing journey and I’m just trying to accept the emotions and not run from them. Until I can accept ALL of the feelings, I’m never going to be able to heal, and peace is the ultimate prize.

Until next time, I am being MJ every day!

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