Mental Management

Anger... that is what I carry with me. It is disguised as many things. It is like the chameleon that changes colors with its background. It is always there, but most people can't see it.

I can see it. I can feel it. Sometimes it is brought out into the open by a simple phrase that triggers something within me. Other times it's just the way I feel. Sometimes fear or sadness brings it out.... because I don't like those feelings. I feel more powerful when I am angry. Volatile. Volcanic... Explosive! Sometimes others just looking at me funny bring out the demon side of my anger. It runs deep within my veins.

Anger can be a useful and effective tool when one is taught how to use it properly, but when it is volatile and used to hurt, it doesn't go away.

Usually the biggest victim to anger is the one who holds onto it so tightly. I feel sad for victims of anger... those who are hurt psychologically, verbally and physically. I only really hurt myself. I don't like confrontation. It happens though. I have only hurt myself..I am very angry. I don't believe in suicide for me. I believe in mercy though.

Don't get me wrong. I am happy for many reasons. Life is a gift. Life is good. I am grateful for this gift of being alive and all of the many experiences I am able to have and the abilities I have been given. I am also lucky to have emotions. I am I'm capable of having angry feelings as well as happy, sad, excited, and more.

But anger is one that I just can't kick. Most feelings are dealt with and go away, but this one just sticks to the bones of my brain. It is not leaving yet. It clings like plastic wrap and sticks as if its nasty boots are stuck in the depths of grimy mud in my head.

Despite many years of therapy and defining what I am angry about and all the triggers and what to avoid, I am finding that I need to read more about how to handle this emotion. I must become more effective so I do not feel powerless and pathetic after dealing with another angry person like my Mother.

The angriest person I have ever known is my Mother. She has been spoiled all of her life and usually gets her way. I don't know why her own family lets her get away with this. I seem to be the only one who calls her on it and I, in return, am the "imperfect" daughter. There is always fault found with me. This makes me even angrier. It's one of those things that must have started in my childhood years.

Boundaries.

I am so sick of this. What an old and boring story. Someone ought to shoot their eye out. Not really. Lobotomy.