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Jul. 30th, 2019 03:30 amYesterday was...interesting. After the crapfest that was Saturday, I just slept a lot, then got up and went to church for the evening service, as I am want to do. I think I ended up crying at least 4 times that evening, and felt like doing so several more times. I don't often cry, but when I do it usually ends up being rather cathartic, but last night didn't feel nearly as great afterwards. Mostly I just felt drained. It's an odd feeling to realize that hurts in your life that you thought you'd dealt with and long ago put behind you is anything but. I heard my inner voice last night, and it was wailing in pain. I've yet to meet anyone who doesn't have past hurts and wounds, but yikes, I thought I was doing better than I perhaps really am. There is some catharsis now, knowing more, and that there is more that needs healing, but it is...difficult to think about having to reach out and take hold of that pain. I brush against it, and I'm an emotional wreck; I don't fancy opening the arms wide and taking it all in at once.
I have pushed down, even repressed at times, my hurts and anger and don't always know how to properly deal with them, particularly when I thought I already did. My dad had a lot of anger in him, always boiling beneath the surface, and though he never knowingly or physically took it out on us, I still internalized a fear of anger, even in myself. I was told many, many times as a child that I was very mature for my age, in part because I often thought of the repercussions of actions. Before I ever hit my teens, I started to see a temper in myself, and I feared what I would do if I lost control. Part of being smart is that you can think of a lot of really creative things, bad as well as good. I saw that desire to hurt, to make someone (usually my brother, who was always an extremely frustrating child) pay whenever I got angry, and I was terrified of getting so angry that I would do something I could never undo. In his teens my brother also had a temper at times, and as he was a hands-on type of person, I feared him. It's funny in retrospect, because he really never did much, but I never really let him either. I remember him getting pissed about something and chasing me to my room where he would pound on my door, or threaten to do something to something I cared about. I never gave him the chance to do anything, and I think now it would have been much healthier had I occasionally taken off my glasses and just fought him, rather than fear what might be. My brother once made best friends with a kid who was picking on him, because he warned him, then straight up clocked him. Broke his finger, but they respected each other after that. My life has so often been one of avoidance rather than confrontation, and I am the poorer for it.
I've known for many years that my fear of anger, both in myself and in others, is the reason I always loved the Hulk so much. I felt kindred to the smart guy who just wanted to be left alone and was terrified of what would happen should the monster be released. There was also the hope it gave, as the Hulk was nearly invincible, and really wasn't a monster at all, but a hero. But it has been an ongoing theme in my life. I had a best friend for many years throughout jr. high and high school whom I would have over all the time to play games with (N64 baby, ah yeah). We had a lot of fun. But as time went on, I noticed he would get angry and frustrated with a particularly brutal loss or upset in a game. It was never aimed at me, usually the game or a particularly uncool enemy or bit of terrain, but I still shied away from it instinctively. I often found myself trying to placate him, usually by playing along as if I was upset by similar circumstances with my death/loss, acting like I was likewise angry at the game's bullshit too. Honestly, I'm not terribly competitive and more just enjoy the experience with others. Who cares if I'm the worst, best, or middle as long as I have fun?
I still find myself trying to calm down angry and frustrated people. Sadly, it's only partly because I'm genuinely moved and want to comfort them, and a small one at that. It continues to come down to me fearing anger, even if it's not about me. I fear the consequences, the what ifs. I, perhaps ironically, whole-heartedly believe in righteous anger, that there are absolutely right times to be angry, but hold even myself back from truly letting myself be so. The pain deep down makes me cry, but the anger I pushed down makes me, ever so often, wake up yelling at someone or punching the wall. I'm on good terms with my brother now, but I woke myself up a few weeks back punching the wall and yelling that I would kill him. He's always the younger him in my dreams. As my family counselor once noted, these things bubble up over time, often in dreams, and we deal with them as they come. The anger with my brother in particular is hard to face, because I feel guilt for the emotional damage I caused him with my words back then. I had no physical stature to rely on, but I had a keen mind, a way with words, and a sharp tongue. He came at me physically, but I mentally, and I know I've caused wounds in him that still hinder him to this day. It's hard to let one's self feel even rightfully angry when you know you are guilty of your own injuries.
I find it interesting that I am the type that needs to process things either verbally or in writing, such as here, and have an extensive vocabulary and love of language, yet always find it all so....inadequate to truly expressing myself. There are always so many nuances and caveats I feel that get lost in writing. It's like I need a three-dimensional display with pull-down menus for all the places where my thoughts on something are conflicted or have multiple connections in my mind that cannot be expressed simultaneously on the page. It would be like having footnotes that are entire chapters unto themselves. It is a rare idea or concept that I cannot see the different sides of or arguments for. So many times I write or say something and then immediately want to qualify that I am aware of this or that facet and am not excluding or unaware of it, just that it's not entirely relevant to the discussion and... You get the idea.
Alright, venting done for now. Time for the sleep.
I have pushed down, even repressed at times, my hurts and anger and don't always know how to properly deal with them, particularly when I thought I already did. My dad had a lot of anger in him, always boiling beneath the surface, and though he never knowingly or physically took it out on us, I still internalized a fear of anger, even in myself. I was told many, many times as a child that I was very mature for my age, in part because I often thought of the repercussions of actions. Before I ever hit my teens, I started to see a temper in myself, and I feared what I would do if I lost control. Part of being smart is that you can think of a lot of really creative things, bad as well as good. I saw that desire to hurt, to make someone (usually my brother, who was always an extremely frustrating child) pay whenever I got angry, and I was terrified of getting so angry that I would do something I could never undo. In his teens my brother also had a temper at times, and as he was a hands-on type of person, I feared him. It's funny in retrospect, because he really never did much, but I never really let him either. I remember him getting pissed about something and chasing me to my room where he would pound on my door, or threaten to do something to something I cared about. I never gave him the chance to do anything, and I think now it would have been much healthier had I occasionally taken off my glasses and just fought him, rather than fear what might be. My brother once made best friends with a kid who was picking on him, because he warned him, then straight up clocked him. Broke his finger, but they respected each other after that. My life has so often been one of avoidance rather than confrontation, and I am the poorer for it.
I've known for many years that my fear of anger, both in myself and in others, is the reason I always loved the Hulk so much. I felt kindred to the smart guy who just wanted to be left alone and was terrified of what would happen should the monster be released. There was also the hope it gave, as the Hulk was nearly invincible, and really wasn't a monster at all, but a hero. But it has been an ongoing theme in my life. I had a best friend for many years throughout jr. high and high school whom I would have over all the time to play games with (N64 baby, ah yeah). We had a lot of fun. But as time went on, I noticed he would get angry and frustrated with a particularly brutal loss or upset in a game. It was never aimed at me, usually the game or a particularly uncool enemy or bit of terrain, but I still shied away from it instinctively. I often found myself trying to placate him, usually by playing along as if I was upset by similar circumstances with my death/loss, acting like I was likewise angry at the game's bullshit too. Honestly, I'm not terribly competitive and more just enjoy the experience with others. Who cares if I'm the worst, best, or middle as long as I have fun?
I still find myself trying to calm down angry and frustrated people. Sadly, it's only partly because I'm genuinely moved and want to comfort them, and a small one at that. It continues to come down to me fearing anger, even if it's not about me. I fear the consequences, the what ifs. I, perhaps ironically, whole-heartedly believe in righteous anger, that there are absolutely right times to be angry, but hold even myself back from truly letting myself be so. The pain deep down makes me cry, but the anger I pushed down makes me, ever so often, wake up yelling at someone or punching the wall. I'm on good terms with my brother now, but I woke myself up a few weeks back punching the wall and yelling that I would kill him. He's always the younger him in my dreams. As my family counselor once noted, these things bubble up over time, often in dreams, and we deal with them as they come. The anger with my brother in particular is hard to face, because I feel guilt for the emotional damage I caused him with my words back then. I had no physical stature to rely on, but I had a keen mind, a way with words, and a sharp tongue. He came at me physically, but I mentally, and I know I've caused wounds in him that still hinder him to this day. It's hard to let one's self feel even rightfully angry when you know you are guilty of your own injuries.
I find it interesting that I am the type that needs to process things either verbally or in writing, such as here, and have an extensive vocabulary and love of language, yet always find it all so....inadequate to truly expressing myself. There are always so many nuances and caveats I feel that get lost in writing. It's like I need a three-dimensional display with pull-down menus for all the places where my thoughts on something are conflicted or have multiple connections in my mind that cannot be expressed simultaneously on the page. It would be like having footnotes that are entire chapters unto themselves. It is a rare idea or concept that I cannot see the different sides of or arguments for. So many times I write or say something and then immediately want to qualify that I am aware of this or that facet and am not excluding or unaware of it, just that it's not entirely relevant to the discussion and... You get the idea.
Alright, venting done for now. Time for the sleep.
