Tag Archives: rage

Rage Day

Have you not heard? Today is National Rage Day. Just kidding. This is my pitiful attempt at humor.

Today has been the following:

  • Rage Day
  • Extreme Self-Loathing Day
  • Wanting-to-punch-a-wall Day
  • My Life Is Fucked Day
  • I’m A Pathetic Loser Day
  • What Is Wrong With Me Day
  • I Hate Myself Day
  • What’s The Point Day
  • I Have Nothing To Complain About Day
  • Why Aren’t I Dead Yet Day
  • Lovely, eh? Yeah, my thoughts exactly. Ugh.

    I want to scream and the screams are all trapped inside. I don’t know how much longer I can live like this.



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    A fall-apart night

    Yesterday was, what should I say… intense? I was tired, I was moody, the heat wasn’t helping. Also what didn’t help was going clothes shopping. Some people might enjoy clothes shopping. I enjoy the end result, but the whole process to me is just awful. Having to browse through the racks, all the people also browsing through the racks, trying to avoid eye contact, waiting for the dressing room, the dressing room itself, having to assess whether an item of clothing looks good on oneself… I was already in a triggered state when we left to go shopping, and the shopping only made it worse. By the time I got home, I was tired and hot and extremely moody.

    The party was fine, although when we left I could tell something was wrong with myself/inner world, I just couldn’t figure out what. Anger was pushing up from inside but I couldn’t tell what was prompting it or where it was coming from. Screaming voices inside… Once home, I then got triggered when my partner turned off the fan and I asked her to please turn it back on. She said, “well, why don’t you take your long-sleeve shirt off first. Maybe you wouldn’t feel so warm then.” This triggered off inside the equivalent to world war III. Intense switching, then everything being stuck inside and body is paralyzed, then fuming anger, and then finally falling asleep in the living room on the couch. My parter came out and woke me up, at which point (and this is where things feel foggy and uncertain), I cried and sobbed for what felt like a long time. It was a bizarre experience though, because “I” didn’t feel sad, yet I was watching myself crying and sobbing. I also heard myself say, “My body was never mine,” and “I don’t even know what it’s like to have my own body.” Quite honestly, I’m not exactly sure why I was saying that or what I was referring to, although I imagine something related to the abuse. I know that I was in an extremely dissociated state. Not really sure if it was “me” talking or another part of me.

    And then quite suddenly, almost like a genie being sucked back into a bottle, all the sadness and grief (?) got sucked back inside my body, I felt like I was back to myself (rather than watching myself), and I could quite literally feel the physical weight and pressure of the sadness and grief pushing up inside my body. I no longer felt the sadness as sadness (even though I’m inclined to say I never “felt” the sadness at all), I felt it only as an intense anxiety. The sadness and grief that had been pouring out of me with tears and sobs virtually disappeared in the matter of a few seconds, and I was back to being my typical numb and shut down self.

    By this time, it must have been well past 2am, although I don’t remember looking at a clock through any of this, and finally we came back to bed and I fell asleep in my partners arms. Upon waking this morning, screaming, angry voices in my head. A typical start to a typical day I suppose.

    I just wonder, if I could feel all those feelings of grief and sadness, without feeling the need to shove it all back inside like what happened last night (even though it felt like an unconscious process much more than a conscious process), I’m wondering if I would then heal? That the key to my healing is feeling the pain and sadness and grief from the betrayals of my childhood, both physical and emotional? Do I actually have to “remember the trauma” in order to heal? Or perhaps simply feeling the feelings and releasing them will release their hold on me? I really don’t know. What I do know is that I feel no better as a result of my hours of crying last night. In fact, it didn’t even feel like “me” who was crying, and perhaps it wasn’t. Where does that leave me then…?

    I guess I am left with myself. The numb, emotionally shut down self. The functional yet dead-inside self. The fake, the phony, the fraud, the lie. The mask, the pacifier, the pleaser, the chameleon. The empty, hollow shell with nothing inside. That is me. Whoopee.

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    Riding the waves of my emotions

    Over the course of the last few days, while I’ve been on vacation, my mind has traversed a variety of emotions that have seemed to come out of nowhere. This is nothing new; unexpected feelings often assail me. And the fact that I’m on vacation does not follow that I’m on vacation from my internal world.

    The one that has come up most strongly, albeit fairly infrequently, has been anger and rage. Especially, I’ve noticed, when I’m drinking wine. This also isn’t uncommon. Often dissociated feelings come up when I let me guard down – ie drink. I don’t like being drunk. When I have wine, I usually only have one or two glasses. I don’t like the feeling of being out of control that comes with being drunk. There are a few exceptions: when I go out with my friends for a fun time, for instance. That is few and far between though. For the most part, me + drunk = bad combo. So I don’t do it.

    But even with only a drink or two in me, feelings that are often repressed or outside my conscious awareness tend to come up. The most common, it seems, is rage.

    When these feelings have come up over the last several days, I’ve tried my best to just let the feelings wash over me and try not to fight them. I’ve learned that fighting them or trying to push them away often makes them worse.

    Where this anger and rage comes from, I can only guess. I would assume from other dissociated parts of me. This knowledge (or assumption) doesn’t make the situation any easier though. The feelings are there, and they are big. But I’ve been trying to treat them the same way I try to treat every other part of me: with gentleness and acceptance. Which isn’t to say this is easy. But I’ve noticed when I can accept these feelings and just observe them and allow them to be there actually makes the overall experience of them much more manageable.

    Now the question comes into play: what’s behind this anger and rage? I suppose that’s what therapy is supposed to help me with. For now, I’m going to try not to worry about it too much. After all, I have my vacation to enjoy!


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    Pain washes over me like waves. When each wave of pain recedes, bubbling rage is there to greet me. Pain, rage, pain, rage, pain, rage.

    I had my appointment with Bean today. For the most part, I sat hiding behind my balled-up sweatshirt, having been triggered into a very fearful state upon hearing the sound of a car crash just outside the window of Bean’s office. I can hardly remember what we talked about, which is unusual for right after the session. Usually it takes a good day or two for it to leak out of my conscious memory – like most everything else. I must’ve been very dissociated.

    The pain and the rage are trying to drown me. And as if that weren’t enough, interspersed with these other feelings is a nagging feeling of panic.

    I’m also getting waves of chills taking over my body, and I’m not even cold. When that happens, it’s a sure way for me to know something is really wrong.

    If only I knew what it was…


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    The mysteries continue

    I spoke with my father this evening. I made the obligatory call for Father’s Day. As I was talking to him, I could feel my calmness and serenity being squeezed out of me. What took its place was agitation. Agitation and anger. Even now I can feel the anger bubbling, brewing, churning, pushing up like hot lava wanting to erupt. Why.

    Every time I’m around him this happens and I push it down. Every time he goes to hug me when I see him, a part of me is screaming inside. Why.

    My father never abused me. Perhaps he was strict at times and perhaps he got angry at times, but overall he was attentive and affectionate. Or is just what I’ve convinced myself.

    My thoughts are all jumbled. I feel like I’ve stepped into a nightmare and I’m not even sure why, or what the nightmare is. All I know is that something is just really really wrong.

    Thankfully I see my therapist tomorrow. Perhaps we can begin to work out this mystery. I need to try to set this nightmare aside tonight. I just hope I can.


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    What’s going on

    What is going on. This is the second morning in a row where I’m woken up (way too early might I add) completely flooded by anger and rage. I have no idea why. I have no idea where it’s coming from. All I know is that I’m so angry I feel like killing someone.

    I saw my dad last night. Well both parents actually, but I focus on my dad because of the anger and hatred that pushed up when he tried hugging me. Ggg.

    Does this rage relate to my dad? I know he would always try to be more physical than I liked (he never understood why I never wanted to hug him – I suppose neither do I), but honestly is this cause for such anger and rage?

    I am so tired of having these overwhelming feelings and having no idea where they come from and what they are attributed to. It’s more than frustrating. I just want a day that’s free from all this shit and emotional turmoil. One day free from all this, that would be nice.

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    Plastic and Rage

    I am a plastic shell filled with rage. You look at me and the rage is hidden, buried deep down underneath my plastic exterior. My plastic shell looks calm, collected, even happy perhaps. Little do you know the war of rage that is taking place beneath this hardened plastic surface.

    Plastic and rage. Did you know that’s all I’m made of?

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