Pandora's Aquarium: Punching out a loaf of dough and imagining my r's face on it: My Therapy with Anger - Pandora's Aquarium

Lately, I've been wondering how to deal with all the "yucky feelings." I've never dealt with anger before, and the rare times I do process anger, I kinda get all hurtful--either toward myself or someone I'm close to and genuinely care about. So I talked about this with my treatment staff (TS) tonight and she was number one in my book by the time I finished our discussion.

This is what she said: "Do you know what I do when I'm angry? I throw things."

Me: (Aghast). "No. That's too out of control for me. I can't throw things. It'll make too much noise."

TS: "Really. Try it. I once had someone who got so angry one day she just THREW a whole pile of pencils on the floor. It's fun.

Me: Um...is that allowed? Seems a little too...angry.

TS: The whole point is to GET THE ANGER OUT OF YOU and ONTO something else. Here. We'll do it together.

[My TS stands up and I warily stand up too.] Me: Okay....

TS: Ok. Take these pencils. On the count of three. One, two...THROW!

[I made an impressive wind-up and hurled a pile of pencils across the room with all my might. Then, with a surprised grin, I said, "Yep. I feel A LOT better--wow!". I paused as I picked up the pencils. "But it seems a little odd...what if my roomates see me doing this in my room? They'll think I'm batty."

"Hm." [Thoughtful pause.] "Have you ever made bread?"

Bingo! I actually HAD made bread before. I'd been 14 at the time and from what I remember, I worked up a sweat kneading that sucker. And I do remember how much I relished channeling my frustration into beating and pounding and throwing down the dough with a loud satisfying "thwump!" and gritting my teeth in frenzied fury. It was very memorable. I loved it!

As soon as my TS suggested it (and walked me through the benefits of hurling objects across the room) I immediatley agreed to her offer to talk with me over the anger-letting of beating the crap out of something safely. So that's where I am.

I'm in a very good mood right now. I had my Behavioral Health class with her (there were 7 other clients besides me) where we discussed about how to challenge negative thoughts and how you can shape your reality through changing your perspective consciously.

I'll let you know how Pounding Dough and Pretending It's My Abuser's Face progresses. I'll definitely check in. I'm so thrilled with this kind of therapy...I get to talk about the abuse while venting physically, GETTING THAT ANGER OFF of ME and ONTO something else. Safely. Even, I don't know, in a normal, healthy way.

I thought of other things I can do:


do some weight-lifting at home. I can grunt through my sets, verbalizing, no matter how inarticulate it may bbe, the sheer effort of burning through angry energy.

Art therapy journals. I love one of my friend's notebooks, a watercolor pad filled with collages and pictures printed from the internet, interlaced with her own personal drawings. Some of the notebooks were really furious messages about the graveyard she wants to see her abuser in. I think she is so great to be able to acknowledge and express, pushing off the self-hate and putting the hate onto her abuser, in a safe therapuetic way. Also, profound and brutally honest depictions of how she feels about herself in her own recovery. So wonderful! I want to start making artwork like that for myself too.

Intense cardio, if the anger is low-key and I just need somewhere to put the energy.

One little sport: raquetball! The local gym has a room for it.

Sharing my letters to my inner child with my support group or even here at Pandys. In these letters, I, the grown powerful adult self, gently sharing in the very terrible place she was (is?) in and articulating for her that her abuser(s?) were not worth anything, dead or alive and that any real human being would back me up on that. Keep in mind I don't feel powerful all the time at all but I pretend to be, for the sake of protecting a little girl that's still inside of me.

And, for me, I'm beginning to let my parents off the hook. As I'm relating to my mom especially that she must be so hurting for me, that her pain must be searing--different from mine, but searing nonetheless.
I'm learning that my family (except the dickhead who is suffering in a homeless shelter right now, may his soul rot in hell) is basically as good as you could get for a dysfunctional family.

I'm in therapy, and like my friend KC said to me this morning, I'm bringing my therapy home and passing it on and while I can't change anyone, I can plant little seeds of information and hope it'll bloom somewhere, at sometime.

That's about all I have. For a sh*tty week, I learned a lot.