Steaming Pile of Brains: What Happens When You're Angry

And I cannot stop shouting, because if I do, the threat comes back. I feel as though I have barely held it at bay, with my aggression, and I need to maintain momentum, because if it comes back, then my only recourse would be to end it for good before it ends me.

Photo by Joel Filipe on Unsplash

Trying to keep my brain from shutting down in sheer panic and exhaustion.

Trying not to hate myself for being optimistic about engaging with abusive people. Not sure what universe I was in, that convinced me it was going to be alright.

It's never going to be alright.

As I sit here, very clear descriptions of the harm I'd like to inflict on myself for being stupid are coursing through my mind. I'm not moving an inch from here, so none of that is going to get done but you. know. what. I'm so done.

The last of my patience this year has finally evaporated. I cannot--

Pretty sure my head's steaming.

Anger for me is such a complicated subject. It's tied to past experiences on such a fundamental level that I cannot seem to get past it.

Sometimes, it starts as anger at a particular thing, which may be unjust or aggressive towards me, or horrible in some way.

Then the reaction of people to that anger, and/ or their follow up response to whatever they initially did. That compounds it.

Then, more response from such people, explaining to other people while ignoring me that I am "emotional." As if "emotional" is a bad thing to be. As if "emotional" is the right way to describe someone reacting to a threat of domestic violence, whether direct or indirect.

As if the issue is imaginary, and only my reaction exists.

People are in such a hurry to tell me why I'm wrong for doing what I do, or reacting the way I am, that they let the people who make comments or threaten violence slide. They ignore them. And as all of this happens, I retreat into a giant echoing bubble filled only with the sound of my own voice booming.

And I cannot stop shouting, because if I do, the threat comes back. I feel as though I have barely held it at bay, with my aggression, and I need to maintain momentum, because if it comes back, then my only recourse would be to end it for good before it ends me.

I cannot stop shouting because if I do, I will hear the horrible things they are saying, the things they are trying to brainwash me with, and it may work. I may actually start believing that I am wrong to react.

It takes time and many false starts to calm the anger. Then the tears of rage and frustration turn up - frustration at not being able to carry through with the violence promised to me by my anger. The futility of my entire existence crashes down on me.

And my brain. wants. to switch. off. but it can't, because I can't afford to lose this battle.

Or the next. Or the one after that. Or the one after that.

I'm tired. And I'm scared that I may never escape the shadow of my anger. Or be able to express it fully.