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Anger and Guilt for Supper.

Posted by Junebug126 , 12 September 2013 · 78 views

I'm not a very worldly person, but I do like to write. I started to write short stories and poems when I was younger and stopped after I was about 23. I don't know why I stopped. I guess because I started seeing my first therapist. Writing was an outlet for me growing up. Yes, like many of us, I was abused. I had (and have) low self esteem. I never liked myself or thought I had any worth at all. But I liked to write. I thought I wanted to be a writer when I grew up because it was ONE thing I thought I could do well. I used to show certain people my poems and stuff. They were pretty personal and a lot of it was unseen. I stopped showing it to anyone when I found out as an adult that my mom had read them ALL. She knew where I hid them and she told me, she read them to "see where I was at emotionally". Gee, that's nice. NO ONE has seen them since that day. I quit writing for any kind of pleasure. From that point forward, I only wrote about work subjects or college subjects. That part of me, I feel died. In a much bigger way to me, it was like someone reading someone Else's diary without permission. I'm not saying that for sympathy. I just wanted to explain that this blog is basically to get back in touch with my inner self that I try to keep at bay. I'm not really even sure what a blog is supposed to be. Someone suggested I blog and it might help me express some things to sort out. Hence, the topic of my first blog. I just needed to give a little apology to the reader if it doesn't fit "blog" style.

The blog is about anger. Then, it's about guilt. After that I'll throw in a little shame and a big heaping scoop of self hatred. Sounds like a wicked recipe doesn't it? Trust me it is. One of the reason's I'm blogging is in hopes that someone might "get it". And hey, if someone else gets it, maybe they can explain it to me or share an experience that could enlighten me about myself.

The situation is with someone I am very close to as if they were my child. I won't re-hash the whole incident because, well, I'd like you not to give up reading at this point. Basically, I've never been a real mom. That is, I've never given birth. I did however raise a teenager for 6 years because her mother couldn't (or wouldn't). Pregnancy, babies and small children are triggers for me. So raising a teenager was going to be hard, I knew that. But I loved the child with everything in me. At times I looked at her and my heart would swell and ache because of how much I loved her. It's sad to say that I, a grown woman now, wanted her approval DESPERATELY. I wanted her to think of me as her mom. I did everything I thought a mom should do AND THEN SOME. I guess that's what they call over-compensation. But she learned at a very early age how to manipulate me and push my buttons. We fought a lot.

Finally the day came when I had so much drama and hurt that I told my husband she had to leave. She was 20 and knew EVERYTHING right? I had gotten to the point where every day there was an issue. I would get angry and immediately feel guilty. Parents are supposed to teach their kids lessons right? Every time I was hard on her I told her, "I'm doing this so that when you're 30 and have kids and no one is around, you can rely on yourself. Then I would feel guilty, and mean, and nasty, and ugly. Most of all, I felt UN-christian. Christ would turn the other cheek right? I didn't, at first. Then I would walk on egg shells for days with a knot in my stomach and be ready to throw up, because she was mad at me. As I write that last sentence, I felt the fear. It started when my dad would yell and curse at us. I used to walk around worrying that I would make him mad. I would hide out or "hibernate" as my mom called it. All I knew was I didn't know if everything was perfect, so I worried. If something wasn't perfect, my brothers and I were called in to question and berated like Marine Cadets. I just got that. Maybe this blog thing is good after all. It's that same feeling. I have to be perfect or I am scum. If I'm scum, someone will get mad at me. If someone's mad I'm going to get hurt, one way or the other.

I don't understand anger. It's such an ugly thing. Yet when I let it go, for just a millisecond, it feels good. Sort of like taking the top off of a pressure cooker. I worry and have worried many times that I would hurt someone beyond repair with my anger. Like my child. I NEVER ONCE laid my hand on her but I could give some nasty looks. I was the queen of nasty looks and stern voices. But with other people, I could say some of the most hurtful things. And before I could close my mouth, regretted it. Then I was ashamed. What Christian person would do this? What good person would do this? I only became this way as a late teenager. After that, the anger became rage. I would cuss and throw things and cry. And immediately feel ashamed, unlovable, nasty,and hateful. Then I would feel small and guilty. A Christian wouldn't act like that.

I've had a lot of reasons to be angry in my life. But for the most part I was scared. Anger scared me. If someone was angry, I was going to get hurt. Sometimes I could see it coming, and sometimes not. I never wanted to pass that fear on to my child. I love her. I just have to face that she doesn't love me like I want her to, or like I need her to. That makes me feel sad and lonely and hurt. I am ashamed because I feel like I did this to our relationship because of anger.

December 2014

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