Anger

It is said that anger is a secondary emotion;  that it masks another primary emotion,  like sadness or hurt.

A theme of this past week has been my aversion to expressing anger with even a single other person present.    Basically,  I do not,  under any circumstances,  express anger in public.   When I am by myself I can feel angry.   This may seem silly,  but the place where I can most get in touch with my feelings of anger is while I am mowing the lawn.   Maybe there's something about eviscerating little blades of grass that gets me in touch with those feelings.   

My therapy group has been helping me to take baby steps toward expressing anger.   This week they asked me to write a letter to the school community I transitioned out of a year and a half ago.   It was a letter I would never send;   one whose purpose was to release the anger I carry around with me all the time.   I wrote the letter and read it to them.   My anger was largely contained,  but I was able to express some of it.   Baby steps.

So why don't I like to express anger?   I think the reason is that I was never allowed to express my pain around the abuse,  abandonment and neglect I suffered as a child.   Oh yeah,   and basing basic elements of my personality on the dynamic that  my one remaining parent had untreated bipolar for most of my childhood.  Part of my personality took on the M.O. that I would not "lose it" under any circumstances.    I would not cry.   I would not get angry.   I would maintain an even keel.   Or else.

The "or else" is that I became an adult,  in a certain way,  at age six.    By that time I had experienced sex (molestation),  seeing my dad exit (abandonment) and seeing my mom teetering as she tried to make a living and get food on the table.  I had to take on adult responsibilities because the adults around me who were supposed to,  were not able to do what was needed:  care for me.      They were largely oblivious to my needs beyond the basics of food and shelter.   In many ways,   I was on my own.    I saw that I had to reduce my needs to an extremely low level and be emotionally available to my mom,  rather than expect that she do that for me.     I assumed a parental role,  in a certain way.   Parents have to put the needs of their children above their own.   This is what I did,  from the time I was six,   vis-a-vis my mom.

So anger was not something I was going to express.   How could I?   My being calm,  easy-going and having very few needs was part of what made my mom able to keep her job and keep the basics of life going.   If she had burned out,   life could have gotten much,  much worse.

  

Of course I had deep-seated anger that was always there,  especially when my mom yelled at me or did something to me that I saw as unfair.   "How dare she treat me in this way when I am taking so much responsibility!"  my little self cried.    "Doesn't she see that I am a key part of our family holding together and surviving!?"     When she decided to remarry when I was fourteen I felt betrayed,  because she expected me to click back into the "child" role after years of being an adult.   

The thing is,   she did not,  and does not to this day,  have any clue about what my actual experience was while I was growing up.    She was not able to empathize with me much at all.   She could express affection and caring towards me but it was always on her terms.   Largely because of her illness,  she has a high degree of narcissism.   Not the best quality when it comes to successful parenting.

Even today,   when I try to share a little bit of my experience,  even the tiniest bit,  she becomes defensive and changes the subject as quickly as possible.      She has a whole fantasy going about her role as a parent.   My perspective is inconvenient to how she wants to view herself.      

So I have never yelled and screamed and kicked and cried about this.   About what I felt I had do in order to survive;  and how the person I did it for is unwilling to acknowledge my deed.

Anger.   I am very, very angry.  At a basic level angry.   But I maintain my pleasant exterior most all the time.     Luckily,  I am less able to hold up this mask today than I was ten years ago.   It's hard work holding up a mask.   

Anger serves a variety of important purposes.   Anger can defend one's boundaries.   Anger can be the fire that furthers healing.     Anger can be the fuel for rightful action.   Obviously,  anger can also be negative,  but it has several important and useful functions in life.    Someone who is unable to get angry is going to have problems.   

I have problems.

It's time for me to admit that I am pissed off.   It's time for me to admit that I can get pissed off.   I am not "Mr Nice Guy".   That persona is the face of my survival mechanism.   There are parts of me that need to be expressed.   I don't need to smile when someone is trying to screw me over.

Were I to continue to stuff my angry feelings I would be leaving vast areas of my soul unexamined.    I would continue to be stunted.   My goal of being fully adult would likely stay at a distance.

If I am going to grow up and be a complete human being I am going to have to learn how to get pissed off.

Your comments are welcome.

Warmly,  Ben