Tag Archive: anger


“I am to misbehave.”

I feel that this quote from “Firefly” feels the most appropriate right now. I refuse to behave. I refuse to lie back and take what a part of this country thinks I should as a woman, as a pan/bi/queer non-binary person. I can’t.

And I won’t.

I can’t as a member of humanity, trying to find their happiness in this world. A human who believes that other humans have an equal right to find their happiness, whatever that may look like. And to do it without the expense of other people. Happiness can be had without it being on the backs of others.

So, that’s why I have chosen to stand, to stand up for the things that I believe. To stand against hate and fear. I’m going to stand the only way that I know how, and in a manner, that so many of you are familiar. I’m going to write. I’m going to write about the things that I believe. I’m going to criticize things that I think could use change. I’m going to wear a big ol’ target because this is important. This is what America was founded on. It wasn’t founded on blind acceptance of what is. It’s fighting for how we can make things better.

I refuse to just fall in line. I refuse to be quiet.

I’m so grateful that I have people who will support me in my right to speak my mind, especially in a place where everyone wants to tell me to shut up and make a man a sandwich.

I will not let someone take away my bodily autonomy. I refuse to be barefoot and pregnant. I refuse to stop fancying who I fancy.

I will be me, unabashedly. I will be the queer person that I am. I will continue to pursue my happiness, and I will not take away from someone else’s for my own gain.

This is counter-intuitive to where this country wants to go. I don’t want to regress. I don’t think that things were better in the “good ol’ days”. I think that the best is yet to come. And I will fight for it to exist. I refuse to accept (like those who want to hold back what I consider progress) what is now the status quo. I have never been a fan of just accepting things the way they are.

And now, I feel, if you share my beliefs, that we all must fight to maintain every step forward we have taken. To not give in to fear and despair. To work to realize a better world for us all to live in. To fight against the alt-right and the white supremacists who want to limit the happiness that other humans should also be enjoying. America is not a white utopia. It should be a utopia for all.

So, I too shall raise my voice and say, “This is not OK. This is not acceptable. We are too good for this.” We will not be abused and told to take our place.

I will not be subject once again to the same abuse that I had to live for so many of my lives. I’m too much of a fighter for that.

“Rage, rage against the dying of the light.”
-Dylan Thomas

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In the very early hours of the eighth of July in the year Common Era two thousand and sixteen, I lie awake. My brain is a constant churning cacophony. I try to make sense of the countless whispers, even if there is none. I try to bring calm to this maelstrom… yet to no avail.

I stare blankly at the darkness, almost impotent to do anything. After all, how does one make sense of the nonsensical? How does one find sanity in insanity?

This week has been both a blessing and a curse. It has offered me a chance for insight, yet also a deeper look into the gaping, dark maw of hatred that many don’t wish to acknowledge… yet we can no longer ignore it.

May you live in interesting times. This is an old Chinese curse (or so I’ve been told). Yet nothing could ring more true as I look at how things have come to this.

I would be remiss if I didn’t at least attempt to hash out everything that is in my head, and maybe give myself an hour or two of sleep.

So, where do we start? Generally, at the beginning… yet, I don’t think that would work nearly as nicely. So, how about where we are right now.

In two days, two men were killed. The why is entirely important because too many people want to hush the rightly angry voices of the community it affects most. Two black men were killed in two days, by cops. This isn’t the first instance, and sadly, this will probably not be the last.

These were two men who were trying to follow what they police were telling them. Yet they were gun down… one of them in front of their four-year-old daughter and girlfriend, while he was still in the car (daughter and girlfriend were as well).

That last sentence should give you pause. It certainly does me.

A young girl just lost her father and has been traumatized for life. This isn’t something you can just forget. She will see this play out over and over in the dead of the night.

So, after such relentless and senseless death of two black men, what to do?

Exercise our first amendment rights as Americans and protest by any means necessary. We all have a right to speak out against injustice when we see it, by whatever voice we can muster. This is why Black Lives Matter is important. Because, right now, the lives being threatened and taken aren’t white, they’re black. And their lives are as valuable as anyone else’s.

Yet, some in Dallas felt differently. Some rogue people decided that they wanted to see another kind of justice. And after many deaths of black men at the hands of the police, in the middle of an otherwise peaceful protest, they decided to take the lives of three officers in Dallas.

People, this is the world we live in. This is not OK.

This is no longer a matter of being a “social justice warrior”. This is about understanding the systemic racism that many find acceptable. That many are willing to vote for (or in many cases not vote at all and allow it to happen anyways). This is the megalomaniac, a narcissist in a bad comb over and horrible spray tan. THIS is what we might be left with. We find ourselves being on the very precipice that the Weimar Republic found itself in the 1920s.

This is not OK.

We deserve better.

 

It makes my personal journey seem trivial in the light of so much hate and darkness in the world. Where it’s all so palpable, tangible. If one wanted, they could reach out into the night and touch it, feel the roiling chaos that it brings with it. For down that path lies the road to ruin. Where we must all forgo the very moral values that every religion teaches.

It’s hard to know if it’s possible to tread forward anymore. I feel caught in a black sludge that threatens to overtake all that is good in this world. It keeps me up late at night and into the wee hours of morning.

… And I realize that there is no more sense to this chaos.

So, what should one do?

Do I succumb? Or do I fight, even though I have lost the will to fight?

I thank whatever for my stubbornness. If anything, it has kept me fighting longer than reason should allow.

So, I sit here, fighting the best way I know how, with words. I won’t fall into that seething abyss before me… and if I do fall, it will be fighting. After all, that’s all I know how to do in this world. It’s what has kept me alive for so long, even after my brain has said stop. I will not allow this darkness to take anyone that I love and care about… or even those that I loathe.

I will not stand idle by.

I chose to fight against the darkness because we deserve better. Because no four-year-old girl deserves to live a life of nightmares. Because even the least of us deserves a voice. Because this is not OK.

 

This has been a long time in coming. I’ve sat on these feelings for the last week and half, speaking about it only in vague terms. I’ve gotten to the point where I can’t just can’t keep quiet anymore.

There’s one thing I abhor more than anything in my life. That’s lying… and more importantly liars. Lying rises an ire in me more than anything. I’m currently in a place where my rage has gotten beyond boiling. To make this more understandable, I feel like I must tell my tale. Not by pointing fingers, but by actually writing it out. Maybe then I can actually sleep again.

I’ve been lied to recently… not just lied to, manipulated, blamed, and flat-out disrespected.

So, how did this all happen?

I asked a question where I was given one response. Now, if in the course of the conversation I was asked about it or been told that they had changed their mind, which would have been fine… or at least better. But it didn’t happen. I was given an unequivocal answer of something not happening. This is probably because maybe I could have made it to the same event. Then I mentioned I wasn’t likely to attend because I had to be adult. I had to put personal responsibility first.

Flash forward a few days.

Having another conversation… one where I keep mentioning the same suspicion that I have. Each time to respond to anything, but what I stated. Now, usually if something didn’t happen I’ve received an angry response of how dare me. This time it’s crickets.

This happens more than once. In the earlier part of this conversation I was asked for a thank you for something that I never received or saw, I was only told about. Somehow I’m supposed to know that a gesture I never received was for me. I find that to be weird, but say thank you all the same. Then I force the issue that I mentioned repeatedly earlier… because at this point there is no wiggling out of it.

They try to argue their way out of it. Denying that they gave me a flat answer. That what they did was OK because there was an ambiguous answer. The fact that they said they weren’t going to do something to only do it is lying. Then they go back and look at the conversation… and they’re caught in a lie. They gave me an unambiguous answer. More importantly, not only did they lie to me, they decided to do it behind my back, because I wouldn’t have found out about it anyways. This isn’t entirely true. I would have found out. There are enough mutual friends that I would have heard from somebody anyways. Besides, the truth does always come out eventually.

Flash forward another few days.

In another conversation… one where I’m supposed to get a heart-felt apology… guess what else I receive. That I’m partially to blame for this situation. Somehow, even though I wasn’t there, I didn’t put a gun to their head, I’m partially responsible for their decision.

At this point, I’m fit to be tied.

This hits every button that I know to be abusive. I was manipulated (I should be thankful for something that I not only didn’t know about, but never received just before the admission that they lied to me). I was lied to (given one answer then they turn around and do something else). That this was done behind my back, intentionally, after they knew I wouldn’t be attending is utterly disrespectful. And then there’s the blame.

So much of this is just not OK. Actually, strike that, it’s not acceptable. If I’m someone you supposedly love and care about, that’s not how you treat them. This is how you treat someone you don’t care about, that you have contempt for… and maybe that’s really it. Maybe these actions are out of contempt. I can’t answer because they are not my actions. I try to be as direct and honest in my speech and action as possible. I expect people to treat me the way that I treat them.

Apparently, that was too great an expectation for this person.

The worst part, is that I’m trying really hard to not let this betrayal color my other relationships… and in many ways it’s not. I’m being very vigilant to fight against the negative feedback loop of this is happening to me because I’m a shitty person. That somehow I deserve this. More importantly, I’m being ever vigilant about not falling into my pain cycle where I have a hard time believing anybody. This is incredibly hard for me. It’s how I’ve dealt with things historically. I get hurt badly, so I keep everyone at arm’s length.

There is one *huge* (and I really do mean huge) positive to come out of this. While I occasionally will fall into negative self-speak, I recognize I’m doing it and stop it. Even more, I realize that I don’t deserve this and that it isn’t my fault. The fact that I’m saying that I don’t deserve this is a huge step forward… like immeasurably huge.

I’m still struggling with fighting with pushing people away because I’m hurt. I’m trying not to. If I do actually do it, it’s not a conscious decision. I do know one thing though, that this is not ok. That this is something I shouldn’t put up with. What that means in the long-term… I don’t know. I’ll have to wait and see.

Sometimes it’s weird how these chains of thought develop even when one processes through all their personal stuff.

I didn’t think I was going to find this whole new random thread among the clutter of others. But as I was writing about my rape again (because each time I find another piece that I hadn’t worked on before). This time… something that has been a huge glaring part of my entire childhood peeked out to say hello.

Lately I’ve been getting plenty of reassurances from my partners that I’m not alone and that they’d be there to help in any way they can. For me, it’s mostly in the form of reassurances. I have to work through this old frayed knot to take it apart and fix it and make it stronger. And the more I picked at it yesterday, I kind of had a come to Jesus moment in the form of feeling horrible about myself.

One of the things that stuck out to me was something I always remember my mom telling me when I was younger. So, along with the abuse that I dealt with when I was at home, I was also relentlessly bullied from the age of 8, which is also when I started puberty… or maybe it was 7. Anyways, when I was far younger than I should have been.

I used to ask my mom for help, because that’s what you’re supposed to do when you’re a young kid, right?

Well, I was never really offered much in the way of reassurance of any kind (which is why they tend to be so powerful to me now). Nor was there an offer of how to cope with the teasing or how to help me lose weight (which is funny because I was a very active child). Instead, I was told I had to learn to fight my own battles. That’s not exactly the most helpful of pieces of advice, now is it?

Especially when you’re an 8-year-old little girl who doesn’t understand why she’s the only one in her grade that needs to wear deodorant and a bra. Where people would make fun of my relentlessly because I was fat, because I was poor… both things I had little control over at the time.

So, instead of anything that would ease me through this abuse, I was once again left to fend for myself, to figure out the best way to deal with it. I did this with no knowledge of psychology or why any of this was happening in the first place. Every time I had a problem I couldn’t solve because I lacked the knowledge to do so, I had to handle it myself.

It was said so often that I stopped asking for help. There was no purpose to ask for something that I wouldn’t get in the first place. So, I spent most of my times trying to figure out how to fix these things… something I had no knowledge of how to do at the time.

So, no wonder I beat myself up relentlessly over why I couldn’t fight back when I was raped. All I ever heard was fight your own battles. It’s why I never told anyone about the rape until I was 18 and taking an abnormal psych class. I looked at the DSM and looked at what I had been experience for those long 5 years and realized that was it. I was dealing with my rape and it made it hard to live.

Even when I sought help, I did it on my own. I went to an outside therapist that had a sliding scale. I didn’t use my health care… but realized that I needed more care than I could afford that way.

Everything I’ve dealt with has been a self-struggle, not by choice but by piss poor design.

So, someone telling me that they’re there for me is a little strange. I’m not used to support. When your life has been entirely self-preservation, the idea of a life raft quickly becomes a little strange. I’m never sure how anyone can help. Especially as I work through this, I’m not sure what more anyone can do but be a sounding board and offer reassurance both verbal and physical, if physical is possible.

This has been… well… pretty much a life-long struggle.

More than anything, this pisses me off. I’ve always felt like I have always been forced to be the adult. I have to be responsible. I have to be in control. I never had a chance to be that child. I had to fight my own battles. I had to watch my sister. I had to provide my food (as in it was in the house, but I had to earn to cook very young). I had to be beaten into submission by any and all means possible (as you can tell, that turned out so well).

Some days I just want to end it all. I’ve been an adult for almost 30 years now. I’m tired. For someone as young as I am, I shouldn’t be so world-weary… yet, here I am. Aged well beyond my years because I had no choice. And now… now I want the freedom to act reckless. I want to be able to do the things that I never could when I was younger. But, for the most part, I don’t. Someone needs to be the adult. Someone needs to be responsible. And I wear that mantle far too often.

Thinking about all of this makes my heart weep. I don’t know how to be a child because I was never one. Why did I have to be the responsible one? Why did I have to be the adult? Why couldn’t I have been able to depend on my parents?

Why did I have to fix everything? I was a child and didn’t have the tools at the time. I wasn’t being told this as a teenager, I was being told this as an eight-year-old. That’s a lot of responsibility for a little kid… and why did I have to do that in the first place? I wasn’t a parent and I certainly wasn’t old enough to understand everything that was going on.

The more I write about this, the angrier I get. I hate that I even had to relinquish my childhood. I hate that I couldn’t ever experience what it really means to be irresponsible. I have no idea what childhood means. To me, it was looking after my sister. It was trying not to get beaten. It was just trying to make it through the day without negative comments about my weight or that I was poor.

This isn’t exactly the childhood that I wanted nor is it one I think that anyone really deserves. It’s what I have to work with though. Sometimes that’s all you really got. So, I’m going to make do with what I have and figure out how to be comfortable accepting the help of others. I like being in the place where I can get help… I just wish I was more comfortable with people reaching out to me.

I hate this… I hate feeling like this. I wish I didn’t have to deal with trigger effects.

I know, it’s not exactly something that can be controlled. It’s not like it’s something that I asked for or sought out. If I did, it wouldn’t affect me to this day.

But every time I’m triggered in this manner, it gives me a negative feedback loop where I don’t know why people like to be around me. Is this rational thought? No, not really.

It is something that I have to deal with though. I can’t just let it consume me.

More importantly, I have to figure out how to get past all this anger when it comes to people being more inelegant in their speech.

I know what the last straw was. Is it something that I think I can talk to the person about? No, not really. After all, I have problems talking about these things to most people.

So, instead… I’m gonna work this out.
One day at a time, one breath at a time.

Triggered

It’s been no secret that I’ve been working on trying to reduce my anger that lingers from abuse. It’s something that I constantly struggle with. It’s something that I’ve tried to handle for some time. Most days I can do it.

Recently I’ve been feeling triggered more. I feel more agitated and…well… angry.

I’ve had some bad relationships… abusive relationships. The longest one I was in was 2, almost 3 years long. I was completely devalued and treated like I was insane. He would intentionally goad me in public and then call me crazy.

While I can talk about it with little emotional reaction, I still have the emotional triggers. While I largely try to keep them under control and tell myself that I’m not in that situation, I find myself being triggered. Largely it seems to be a lot of issues brought up in this election. As much as it pains me to say this, we live in a time where women are overtly being minimized.

I have a hard time taking anyone seriously who thinks that women can’t get pregnant if they’re raped… or that most women aren’t legitimately raped. On the other hand, the vice presidential candidate has been recorded saying that being raped is another method of conception.

The jokes about women only being good in the kitchen…

And then there’s the fact that people think that women should be coveted and watched over. That women can’t be strong enough or self-assured enough to look after themselves. That women need entourages or chaperones.

All of these contribute to hitting the same big, red, shiny button that has a huge neon sign that says, “Do not touch!”

So, I have to pull away from those things. I have to try to control this anger. I can’t just be angry. It makes me an awful person. It doesn’t help anyone or anything. It just makes me an angry person.

I hate that women are being led to believe that they’re somehow second-class citizens again.

I’ll probably be covering more feminist issues in this week.

If anything, I want to figure out a more sustainable way to handle my anger. People aren’t going to just stop minimizing the role of women. Women can be strong, self-empowered and capable of many of the same things men are. While working on this, maybe I can exorcise some personal demons.