Rage – it’s not all about you

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“Do not go gentle into that dark night..” said Dylan Thomas, is exactly what I did today. I didn’t not go gentle into myself which pushed me back out into rage. 

“Dr. Now would be a good time for you to get angry” “that’s my secret Captian, I’m always angry”. A dialogue from the Avengures. That’s me. I’m always angry, but I very very seldom show it. But like in one of my last blogs I also said that the safety I’m feeling within my bf is allowing me to open myself. And my rage has finally been displayed. Torn myself apart to show my true colors to someone I love. It’s been since my divorce that I’ve let this side come out. More than 2 years, maybe 3. But this bad? I’m not sure. 

It was a build up I’m seeing. One event after another, stress piling on to of stress. Pain upon pain.  “You hide it so well” “how could you not show it for so long?” Says my Mamaw as I tell her my dark secrets of living in my past, and how it’s become to creep itself back into my life. 

Two nights ago I woke up hyperventilating from a dream of murder. I’ve been over exercising at the gym. Working tirelessly in the yard to gain something, to show myself what? Then my bf comes at me last night about how his dad thinks I need to spend more time with him at church. How a good “successful” family is a “church going” family. I have faith but in my own way. I don’t condone Christian faith nor do I not believe I just have my own way of going about it. I as raised in church and I hated every moment of it. Being  teased by the kids in Sunday school, in youth group – not feeling welcome by anyone there. Judgmental is all I see with Christian’s yet my boyfriend is different. He has a strong faith (which I do) but he doesn’t judge me for my way of believing. I pray with him and his family and I go to church if it is required of me to show my support for him. But I won’t go every Sunday nor do I think it’s necessary for a successful family. 

This was just one of the straws the broke the camels back this morning. Upon the conversation of church and his family and his faith, I began to work hard in the yard, letting steam out but then I hit a plateau. I needed a piece of equipment I didn’t have so I stopped. I made peace with my boyfriend and desired make up sex. But what I got was nothing and a sexual energy build up that made me more mad. Then I became crazy. I got my clothes on for the gym to blow off steam and had my phone and keys to head out. Then…

He said “it’s not all about you” I lost it. I threw down all my stuff grabbed my hair walked into the bathroom, fell on the floor – “it’s not all about me?” Kept throbbing in my head making me crazy – what about all the times I don’t “get off” and he does? I felt the world collapsing – why was this making me so crazy?!? 

This happened in less than a minute but it felt as if time had slowed but my mind was not there. I could only witness. I was helpless in controlling my actions, feelings and rage. I couldn’t lay still my hair was being pulled from my scalp. I felt like this was it. My last straw. I got up and walked out. I saw my massage table neatly folded and zipped in its protective case with my clothes drapped over it from working last night. I cant remember if he said something when I walked out of the bathroom into the room. I was calm. I looked calm. I held my breath afraid to let any energy release from my body. But I couldn’t hold my breath forever. 

As soon as I placed my hands on the massage table over the clothes I lost myself. I breathed out a whirl winded fury of energetic rage that Over took my mind and actions. I detached from my senses. I threw the clothes across the room, I don’t remember if I said it or thought it – idk that it matters to anyone but me, but it felt as though I screamed “I can’t do this anymore!” 

It wasn’t a “do this” as a being in a relationship anymore it was can’t do life anymore. I really have a hard time understanding what life means and what the point of it is. 

I pulled my massage table off the wall so it began to fall and I began banging as hard as i could on it. This is where my sight left me. I felt my knees drop and I hit some thing hard with my hands. It must have been the top of the wooden table. Then soft. The cushioned part of the  table. I banged on it as hard as I could with closed fists, I pounded the life out of it. Did I wish it were me? 

I probably looked like a monkey beating a drum with long arms stretched toward the ceiling using every bit of length and power I had. The next thing I know I’m falling toward the floor. Now struggling for my life to escape a grasp I’m unaware is real or imagined. I struggle. “LET ME GO!!!” I struggle helplessly to break his grasp. I begin to scream and cry at the same time. I don’t know what’s going on. 

He said “shhh, it’s okay, I got you. I’m here. Stop fighting it. I’m not letting you go. I got you.” 

The long minute has passed and we’re on the floor. I can’t move now, only cry. It’s not that I can’t move because of him, he let go. I can’t move because I paralyzed myself with rage, guilt, pain, memories, thoughts – but mostly memories and illogical thoughts. 

I wanted to reach out to kick, punch, hit, swing all my arms, legs, and head just to get away. But it wasn’t him I wanted to get away from – it was myself. 

I continued the cycle of hating myself. Angry, guilt for being angry, confused as to why I’m angry, pain of past memories, then illogical irrational thoughts of the future, then feeling stupid for feeling that way about things that haven’t happened, not understanding why I’m thinking that in the first place, now I’m back to me laying on the floor. Where did my time go? How did I leave my body here to race with my thoughts. My body feels the time. It wasn’t long. But my mind feels eternity. 

He’s still rubbing my back. Did he leave? He’s speaking to me, words he always does of comfort and safety. Im here, Im not leaving you. I love you. It’s okay. 

I begin hyperventilating- he doesn’t deserve this. I don’t deserve him. He tells me to breath slowly, but I can’t. Just hearing him speak reminds me of the unworthiness I feel to have him choose me to love. Why does he love me? Am I faking it or is he? Have I faked it this whole time? Or has he? I’m loosing myself again. My mind chokes with my throat and I get light headed. I feel sick. 

All this perception of life. All this confusion, miscommunication because I don’t see life the way you do or he or she does. What’s going on in the “physical world” that’s keeping us from peace? 

But peace and freedom are found when we cease to be.