I hate the days AFTER. After I talk about my past. After a panic attack. After a trigger. Just after.
It took my quite a while before I was calm enough to sleep (had to read in bed for quite a while) and didn’t get up until nearly 5 in the afternoon. Then I’m emotionally restless and restless in general. And a whole lot of angry. So when I’m angry I unfortunately go looking for stuff that makes me angrier. That means in this case I go to CAF (Catholic Answers Forum) and read. Thankfully, my tablet decided that it didn’t have a connection to their servers so I wasn’t there long. Or listen to what I call “angry music” which is kind of easy because of the Slacker AP I have on my phone.
But I was really angry and really wanted to hurt somebody. I have posted on here about being spanked and a bit about the damage that inflicted on me, especially emotionally. I know I have anger and rage issues though thankfully I know I have them and struggle with not giving into them. I feel the anger and the rage but I don’t act on them. All that anger and rage came from how my mother treated me growing up. She got to hit me and hurt me with her voice. She could do whatever she wanted but I had to take it and keep quiet. My emotions and feelings didn’t exist. My sisters were generally allowed their emotions and feelings and could pretty much do whatever they want without real fear of punishment because I would be the one punished instead though there were times when my mother’s anger and rage consumed her or one of her pet peeves was pushed and then everyone was a target.
And yet, many people thought that she was nice and helpful. She was very good at lying and convincing others into what she wanted them to believe, especially me. I still deal with the effects of that mental manipulation even now. My mother and even my grandmother both told me on separate occasions that I would never amount to anything. And unfortunately, depending on how you judge success, I haven’t. Especially as I’m currently unemployed and it could be argued that my being fired was my fault. Although, when I tell people why I was fired and the events leading up to, I’m always told I,have a case for a lawsuit.
I hate being so angry because I still can’t act on it or really allowed to feel it. Because that would be bad. Plus, women, according to just about everyone, aren’t supposed to feel anger let alone act on it. And I’m supposed to have forgiven my mother for all that she did to me and be her best friend instead of a victim of abuse. And I’m supposed to be healed of this already or it’s not really all that bad as I say it was and that I’m making stuff up to play the victim.
But I’m angry and all I can do is keep my mouth shut because I don’t know how to express that anger without wanting to hit someone. But then I feel bad for feeling angry because I’m not supposed to be angry or feel angry. I’m not allowed. Even though I might be allowed now I’m still not allowed because it might be a trap. Then I hate myself for feeling angry because it’s wrong and I know I’m not supposed to be angry. I’m supposed to shut up and keep quiet and just take it.
I hate myself so much sometimes. I can’t get away from the anger and the pain I’m not supposed to feel because it isn’t real. I’m supposed to bury it so nobody can find it and everybody can sent it. See, all that pain and anger and abuse just isn’t supposed to exist. Not exist at all. There’s no me. And that’s the point.
If I can be cut off, ignored, lied to, manipulated, abused, made not to exist, then the reality of what happened to me can be easily explained away or even outright excuses and even condoned. If I don’t exist, then people don’t have to acknowledge that I was hurt and that I was hurt by someone they like. They can lie to themselves about what happened to me and they don’t have to tarnish their perfect little world with the reality of pain and abuse. They can hide behind excuses or even convince themselves and others that nothing like that could ever have happened because they know “the truth” which is not to be confused with “The Truth.”
I’m not sure where I’m going with this any more since I seemed to have rambled on.