Posts Tagged 'anger'

The Angries

I have anger issues.

There. I said it.

But I’m not supposed to get angry or be angry or feel angry or show anger.

I’m supposed to keep my mouth shut and take it. I’m to keep smiling and never show any emotion but happiness. Feeling any emotion is explicitly NOT allowed.

That’s not what women do.

That’s not what good Catholics do.

That’s not what good Catholic women do.

I’m not supposed to get angry at all. It’s practically apostasy and pretty much a sin against the Holy Spirit.  No one who wants to be considered a good person ever gets angry, especially not a woman.

Feeling anger means I’m entitled and as a woman I am not entitled to anything. I am to put up and shut up.

So getting angry means I have completely and unforgivable – ly screwed up. Only God can get angry. And men. And certain women. But not me. My anger makes me evil.

There is no injustice in world, well not for me. I’m to put up and shut up.  My anger is wrong and has condemned me to Hell.  I’m supposed to be all sweetness and light. I’m supposed to let the bullies and the abusers win. That is godly. They say that is what God wants and the only way to truly love God: let yourself be abused and accept the abuse as deserving. Abuse is love.

I’m not supposed to get angry at my mother for abusing me. I deserved it, you know, for not being the child she wanted.

I’m not supposed to get angry with the agendas that force sin and destruction down our throats.  I am to suffer silently, or better yet accept and indulge in the destruction.

I’m not supposed to get angry with the neighbors who have no respect for me or my things. I deserve their harassment and abuse because I’m not a person worthy of respect.

I’m not supposed to get angry but I do. But I’m not supposed to, am not allowed to be angry. So what am I supposed to do?

I confess it all the time. Avoid the things that deliberately make me angry. But I still get angry. I pray. I go to Adoration and end up angrier hours later.

I am an angry person but I’m told, no, demanded, that I never get angry or ever feel anger.  I hate that I get angry because I believe all this.  And I’m definitely angry at myself for being such a screw up and failure and for getting angry.

But I’m still angry. I tried all the techniques and nothing has worked. So what am I supposed to do? Become a Vulcan?


Spanking Allows Adults to Achieve Revenge Against Children

Spanking is the adult desire to retaliate against the child’s humiliation and embarassment of him/her.  The decision to spank is always done in anger.  Always.  The actual physical spanking may be done without acknowledged anger but anger completely colors the process from the beginning.

Spanking is used not as a means of true discipline but rather as a means of punitive mindless retaliation.  Revenge.  The adult feels humiliated by a child’s behavior and/or words and because the adult is so focused on how other people see them, perceive their parenting abilities, the adult spanks the child to cover up the embarassment and humiliation and to retaliate and seek revenge in response to that humiliation that is in a  disproportionate response to the child’s behavior or words. 

The child does something the adult doesn’t like, the adult becomes angry because they feel humiliated, and so they spank to alleviate those feelings of humiliation.  Spanking becomes about revenge.  In this, the child.”controls” the adult because the adult reacts to the child when a child doesn’t know any better or is still learning or it’s entirely on the adult’s whom.  So the adult spanks to wrest that “control” back and set the supposed balance of power back in order.  Which only lasts until the next time the child does something the adult thinks is wrong or angers the adult and spanking happens again.  It becomes cyclical.  Both lose.

Sp anking is about control.  Not obedience.  Just fear filled compliance.  Not only that but adults spank children because they lack control in their own lives as any control they can have, they take. Even ascribing power to a child who has none so that they can take that power.  Spanking a child is something the adult can control with the child in the driver’s seat “controlling” when they get spanked.  Spanking as control makes the adult feel as if they are in control. 

Spanking is also about power and having power over those that don’t have power and cannot have power.  Spanking is a form of “power” that can be meted out whenever the adult feels like it  and believes that children control the when it is meted out.  In the end, spanking is about assauging the anger and humiliation of the adult through retaliation and revenge on a child that has no power or control or choice or even humanity.

More Poems


You crash in
Carrying the ocean of your emotions as if a hurricane has sucked them all up.  You release them not caring about the consequences, the blown down trees, the ripped roofs, the shattered windows, the complete destruction of a town.  For you it’s all about
about you sharing
when nobody wants you to.  The winds keep howling but you don’t hear them.  You’ve moved on while I drowned. 

I couldn’t breathe under that deluge.  It may not have lasted forty days but it certainly felt Biblical. 

Then you were back again, that ocean,
that hurricane
winds and rain and destruction.  I still have water in my lungs from the first drowning.  I can’t survive a second but that doesn’t matter to you.

It’s the same stories, all centered on you
When you aren’t sharing secrets that shouldn’t be told
You violate people, talking about them out of turn, saying things they’ve said in secret that you blare out for a wink and a smile.

Your own flesh and blood and you cut it mindlessly
because it serves to promote your superiority. 
At least you don’t drown them in hurricanes,
just monsoon rains.

They’re used to it:
The cuts
The gossip
The lies
The inferiority
The second class civilization
The making it all about you

They’re living their own lives which you abhor.  So you seek out others to control


You do to them what you did to your own flesh.  Cuts and lies and gossip.  But the hurricane as well.

I drown every time we meet.  You love seeing me fade out of life.  Your love is for you alone.  There is nothing for me.

You drown me and take from me at the same time.  I’m just food to you, a mindless snack that you’ll complain about later.  But you’ll do it all again and again and again.

Drowning because you pull out the fear and the snake.  Then it’s old time religion and snakebites and demanding me not to tell but only to protect you.  But I keep drowning.

You keep the hurricanes moving but stationary.  The floods amuse you.  Watching me drown is your favorite show.

I know how to swim but you keep pushing
Water in lungs
No chance
No air
Water, water everywhere

But it ain’t to drink

I see your face through the surface ripples.  You’re smiling in glee.  I’m drowning and it makes

This is religion for you.  Hurricanes and drowning.

I’m not talking about the sun or the oven or a kitchen after a mad round of baking.

It’s the anger.  The anger you engender in me.  It burns through my veins, leaving me incapacitated


Not able to act or react
Cracking my teeth

Leaving me in pain, my jaw hurting and I can’t figure out why

I am stopped in my tracks, unable to move except to punish myself.  Because I am not allowed anger nor rage
Those are YOUR emotions
My feelings are not to exist

You hit and scream and yell
And all I can do is take it
Thinking silently that one day I will get to do that to my own kids
Today I know that’s wrong but then it was comfort
Adults could hurt kids with impunity
Kids had to take it
Abuse only happened in other homes
So I took the screams that hurt my ears, the names the scored my skin, the violation of my boundaries just so you could rule your little dark kingdom

Waiting to grow up so I could finally hit back
Hit someone who couldn’t hit back themself
Someone weaker than me

That’s why I took my nails to my sister’s arm over a fight about dinner
Not that she was weaker  She was more loved than I, well
She was loved and I wasn’t and I knew it
So striking Mother’s favorite was a way of striking back at Mother (not that I knew that then; all it got me was more screaming and pain while Favorite got her way, again)

But the anger and rage are still there
But now I can’t take them out on anybody
Well except myself which is what everybody wants
I am to be punished
I am told my anger and rage are unimportant
That they are made up
That they don’t exist

That if I act on them I’m only making things worse for myself
That if I feel them or acknowledge them in any way then I am an offense to God


I Am
To Be

I don’t exist except at their pleasure

Feelings only matter if you are a select group of people
Otherwise you are supposed to buy the lies and obey their demands


Feelings are BAD

Bad things will only happen to you if you feel them.  Well happiness and pleasure in limits are okay but anger and rage and frustration and disappointment are illegal except for those in command
And you always bring them out in them

Maybe if you weren’t so useless
Maybe if I could actually hit back
Forget stupid convention
I just want to hit
To be in control
To not be the victim
To not be the unloved and unwanted child
To not be the ugly woman
To not be the subject of shame
To just not be

But that will never happen

I Said It

I hate you
I said it

You think I’m lying
You won’t take me seriously
But I tell the truth

I hate you

I hate your voice and the stupid way you dress (hello not a teenager any more so grow up)

I hate your favoritism and how you made sure you knew I knew that you wished I didn’t exist

I hate your double standards that only applied to me

I hate your stupid rules that were only about control

I hate how I’m not even a person to you

I hate how you praise and promote irresponsibility and immorality and put down self-control and respectability

I hate the put downs and name calling and just plain shaming because I didn’t fit your plans and didn’t make you the center of my life

I hate the screaming verbal abuse that made sure all I knew was fear and to be permanently jumpy at loud noises.  Or even just hearing my name.  My own name.  Cringing and flinching which I have to hide.  Remember, according to you and everyone else, I wasn’t abused.  I was just a bad girl going to Hell

And I’m not talking about Hell, Michigan

I just wasn’t good enough

I hate how all you thought me going to college for was to get an MRS degree

Which I didn’t
I got a real bachelors with real weight
Then I got a second

So maybe I’m in debt that I currently can’t pay but I have real degrees,
traveled in foreign countries on my own,
worked in a male dominated industry,
gained respect from people who didn’t give it freely,
learned to do without and be happy,
can deal with emergencies without panicking,
can jumpstart a car and diagnose many car issues,
am willing to learn about fields and subjects outside my comfort zone,
can work with a disparate group of people,
have been sought out by my coworkers due to my abilities especially in problem solving and dealing with cranky individuals,
have been recognized for my abilities to do my job above and beyond and to take initiative,
am recognized as being a good listener and not taking sides in a dispute between two people,
am willing to take time to learn not just something new but also how to do something better,

Well you don’t care but I’ve done more without you than with you. 

I still hate you

But I’m learning to love me

Actually, you don’t exist to me.  You’re not worthy of my hate.

Oy Vey

I keep wanting to visit that stupid blog even though I know I shouldn’t.  So far I’ve managed not to for almost three days.  I don’t need to read lies and garbage that will just make me angry.  And posting comments would probably get me banned, not because I was rude or anything but because I didn’t tow their party line.

So no reading stupid blogs. Therefore, I’ve had to write in my paper journal more to work out some anger, some towards the blog and some towards people who refuse to understand Church teaching or think that popularity pressure will change doctrine.  Just stupid stuff.

It’s spring break here in Oregon so of course that means rain.  It’s also the first spring break where I haven’t had to farmsit.  Yes, farmsit as in watch a farm.  It’s nice not being out in the rain and mud dealing with grumpy and wet animals.

Tomorrow, March 26, is an Ember Day for the Archdiocese of Portland.  An Ember Day is a day of fasting and abstinence and prayer set aside, in this case, for the strengthening of family and marriage.  Especially in the world today where families and traditional marriage are under such insidious attack by those that want to make sin, law.  And want those who oppose such sin to celebrate, worship, and embrace that sin instead.  Thankfully, the Catholic Church will not bow to such lies and demands and never will.

I know the Archdiocese also has an Ember Day in June set aside for support of victims of clergy sexual abuse and victims of sexual abuse in general.  Archbishop Emeritus John Vlazny set the day a few years ago.  I won’t know the exact date until closer to it so I’ll post it then.

Not quite three and a half weeks left of Lent.  And those that gave up chocolate are probably regretting that about now. *tongue firmly in cheek*  Don’t worry, next Lent you can give up giving up chocolate. That’ll work better for you. 🙂

Still looking for a job and today I actually looked, which is quite an important part of the process.  So I’ve heard.

Anyway, I work on that stack of books I’ve got.  And figure out the wet ingredients for my blueberry bread.  It was supposed to be orange bread but I defrosted the blueberries and so now need to use them.  Plus, not so keen on orange juice right now let alone orange bread.


Red Sox won!!!  While they’ll never be my Cubies, I will root for Boston when they are in the playoffs or World Series. (Or any team that beats the evil empire, those evil Yankees)  And they won!! So some good news for me.

And yes, I did make it to the library and got most of the process completed for the one job.  I’ll go back tomorrow to finish it and apply for more.  I feel like I accomplished something today.

Something to note: I found physically writing out the anger as letters to the people who hurt me helps me a lot.  I likely won’t post any of them due to the content and because of who they are written to but the process really helps.  Especially with the garbage that was the whole hearing, my former employer, and all that went on while I was still there. Plus, there’s only so much negativity people will put up with from a blogger and I’ll put up from myself.  So more of my angry and depressing stuff will be relegated to paper journals.

Now back to working on reading books from the library. And rejoicing in the Red Sox World Series win.  That’s very important. 😀

Writing A Bad Day

I had to write this out with paper and own because I was in such a bad headspace earlier.  I write this in just over an hour with several crying jags and moments of extreme anger that resulted with me hitting myself.  Like I said, not a good headspace.

Today is one of my bad days.  One of my really bad days.  So bad for a moment I was so suicidal I nearly had the knife to my wrist.  Didn’t do it of course but I was that close.

Right now I am so sulk of anger anger at myself.  I keep hitting myself.  I was reading Nice Girl Syndrome and all I can think, all that’s going through my head is anger, how useless, how worthless I an, how I need to punish myself that learning to stand up for myself  bitchy, narcissistic thing to do.  I just need to be a nice, obedient, silent, submissive girl and then things will work out alright, Good will finally love me.  Then I go to Catholic.Answers Forums where all the talk is about Pope Francis and his desire for a deeper theology of women.  Just about everyone in the Trad forum think that means every American Catholic woman wants ordination because they haven’t been properly catechized to understand they should only be submissive wives and mothers and that should be the only thing they want.  Everything else is a blasphemy and damns people to hell.

There are several women posters who advocate this, even demonizing women who don’t agree with them or their views.  They want women to be submissive doormats men need bigger roles in the Church since more women work in the parishes then men.  Well, yeah, because who v else will work for little while slaving away to carry on the faith.  There’s no real money in parish work and women are willing to do the work while men work in the secular world where they get paid more.  Of course, posters refuse to acknowledge thus; they think if they get rid of the women then the men would come back and take over everything.   Yeah, that’s not going to happen.  Add in the abuse scandals, societal and religious perceptions and expectations of women, plus the pay level, men are not going to do much parish work.  Now that.doesn’t mean they’re absent.  They still do things like Knights of Colombus,  fundraisers, Boy Scouts, physical labor but they aren’t going to become secretaries, assistants, catechists, DREs.  It’s not because they can’t but they know women are better at relationships since they.are trained to be so from birth and men recognize on some level that the ability to foster and.maintain a relationship is important especially in teaching.  Doesn’t mean men are leaving the faith or are absent but understanding how to effectively use the resources and talents you have for the benefit of the whole parish instead of just one person highlights that we are a community of  believers, not just a slapdash group of individuals thrown together.

I find it fascinating and appalling that it’s largely WOMEN who complain about women volunteering and working in parishes.  It’s largely WOMEN who enforce destructive ideas of modesty, sexuality, marriage, abusive relationships. 

It’s WOMEN who slut shame other women for wearing pants, swimsuits at the pool, dressing so that they look attractive, for not being in a burqa.  They are also the ones who fat shame women who don’t fit an ad agency’s idea of the female figure of a supermodel. 

It’s WOMEN who slut shame women for recognizing that they are sexual beings, for enjoying sex within marriage, for not fulfilling their impossible beliefs about Catholic/Christian motherhood/wifehood that had many children with extreme purity where bodies are ashamed just for existing, for even liking guys, for being human, for recognizing that women have bodies, for not following their extreme ideas about purity.

It’s WOMEN who abuse shame women to enter into abusive relationships that are considered “godly” and “biblical” because the man lords it over the girl (girls never become an adult in this world) and abuses her I’m god’s name a decreed by the pastor.

It’s WOMEN who beat women into believing that it is their fault if a boy lusts after a girl, if a husband cheats on his wife, if a woman is raped, if someone in their life comes out gay.  It’s a woman’s fault that men rape, hit, are gay and if only women dressed in burqas, stayed under the power of their fathers/husband, first time obedient, never.question, never educated, then men would be perfect and God might like women but only through men because women are so despicable that they can’t be loved or liked by God, only by Man.

I’m just so angry and taught the only person I could be angry with is myself so I learned to turn that anger on myself and turn it inward. I still think punishing myself would make things better, would make my abusive narcissistic love me, make God love me.  If I just kept the rules fundies/traddies had then maybe God would finally notice me and maybe, very small maybe, love me.  If I just dress modestly, married a man who beat me and raped me, was a stay at home mother who didn’t actually homeschool because the boys would all become priests and go to a boy school (since I can’t have any authority over men and boys are just young men)while I taught the girls how to keep house since that’s all they need to know, always praying the Rosary but keeping silent otherwise, and spanking the children since beating kids is biblical.

If I did all this, then maybe I would be good Catholic woman and God would love me.  Because, right now, by not doing any if this I’m going straight to hell and God is gleefully running his hands together in anticipation of my burning for eternity.

According to Catholic fundies/traddies.

Hey, rules work, don’t they?  Drivers over traffic laws, students obey school policies.  Therefore, rules work.  Do arbitrary abusive rules work? No, but we keep them anyway and enforce them thinking that if we only get them right this time everything would be okay.  Bad things won’t happen, God will finally love me.

And God have us rules, right?  And if we just keep them then we get to go to Heaven.  Right? Yes, there are the Ten Commandments and the Jews have 613 commandments but even they recognize that they can’t keep them perfectly.

I’m still angry, raging.  All 
I can do right now when thought of women just need, I just need to remember that I am damned, that I shouldn’t have the right to vote, should not have an education or a career, that women just need to learn their place a inferior worthless brings good for only being wives and mothers and women should be punished for their being anything but a wife and mother.  I keep wanting to post on CAF  on how women should learn their place, that rape and abuse should be made legal, that women who get any kind of education needs to be beaten, that disobedient wives, need to be spanked, that  women are property and we need to remember this has always been the teaching and we need to go back to this teaching otherwise the world.and Church will suffer.

Remember, all the evoking the world is the result of women.  All I can do is hit myself because I have a need to punish myself because if I punish myself then things would be alright.  I be punished,.to be beaten, to be spanked.  I have so much anger maybe if it was beaten out of me then I wouldn’t have it anymore.  I deserve hell.  God cannot possibly love something so utterly evil as me.  I hate myself.  I just wish God did too because it would make it all easier.  I know I’m not lovable.  Why doesn’t He? Why can’t he let me die? I’m so worthless, so evil, so angry.  If He would just punish me, I would finally understand my place with Him.  This loving and forgiveness thing isn’t working out for me.  I can’t be loved.  My mother doesn’t love me.  My dad doesn’t love me.  I don’t love me.  I just can’t get away from it, from me.  I can’t suffer in peace.  I deserve to due and go to.hell.  That’s what everyone keeps telling me.  That’s what I tell me.

I hate this headspace. At least there is an answer to the fundies/traddies: THAT IS NOT CHURCH TEACHING.  Fundies/traddies are a bunch of liars and have gotten in my head.  I want them gone.

To the Fundies/Traddies in my head:














Seven pages of handwriting.  That was my headspace several hours ago and has been my headspace too many times.  I hate it.  I don’t want to go there again.

And So It Goes On

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.


Type this later, if I remember.

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