On what’s on the inside

Trauma is like stuffing stockings down your throat and actually swallowing, getting it stuck in your lungs and your bowels and your limbs until you’re packed so full of compressed stress that you can’t move or breathe or think anymore.

Trying to free yourself of trauma is like uncoiling a giant python that’s slowly but steadily been eating at you from the inside out, pulling yourself from its mouth as you spit it out of yours.

Anger is my Achilles heel. I have yet to learn to let it circulate through me. I got a lifelong habit of swallowing it back instead. This year I finally got around to screaming in a pillow. I find it bruises my vocal chords but hitting and biting myself hurts way worse. The other day I even screamed out loud, like really loud. I kind of surprised myself there. I honestly didn’t know I could do that.

If a ball of fire was rushing towards you, it’d be best not to get in its way. Better let it get the fuck away from you. That’s what anger feels like to me. Repressing it is like trying to get a pissed off dragon to act like a pretty pet. It’s just that when the gates are closed you really don’t have a choice but to wrangle with the beast. And while that allows you to look cool on the outside, it gets you burned to a crisp on the inside.

I guess I’m using the word anger and trauma interchangeably today. Maybe I’m angry about being traumatized. Or maybe repressing anger is traumatic. Yeah. Both sound about right.

Years and years of anger and trauma, laced together into a lethal injection. That shit really will kill if you can’t let it leak out of you. How is the question though. Because those feelings and reactions got frozen in time not for nothing. They might as well be a dragon spitting fire. Even when you know that getting in touch with them is the way to free yourself, you’d better have a functioning fire extinguisher close by when you do.

Right now I feel overwhelmingly angry. Just not about anything that’s happening right now. Which is why it’s so fucking hard to know what to do. I have no idea how to process this weight of disillusion washing over me, this massive wave of animosity with nowhere to go.

That’s the worse part about it. My entire energy field is paralyzed and the fever has nothing to burn through so I just stay hot, too hot to calm down and too hot to move on. It’s utterly frustrating to feel like you can’t help yourself and there isn’t even anything wrong. I mean I guess that plenty of wrong did happen but it isn’t happening anymore so what can I do about that?

I wish I could release it all. All the hurt and the rage and the violence. I want it picked up and shipped off. But it’s terrifying. I’m afraid it’ll overpower me. I’m afraid I’m not strong enough to feel everything I’ve stuffed in there. So I lie here on my couch in the dark writing about it instead. Maybe it’s the closest thing to screaming I can handle for tonight.

2 thoughts on “On what’s on the inside

  1. One thing I have realized as I continue to go to a therapist (with the added element of divorce now in my life) is that despite my exceedingly normal upbringing with exceedingly normal family around me in an exceedingly normal town in Anywheresville U.S. is that in fact, it was anything but. And I have a lot of anger in me as I think about a lot of these things. But I’m not sure I allow it to linger and fester deep inside of me. That’s my approach, helpful to me. Sounds like your anger is more severe, more of a wound however. And again all I can say is I hope you find that release, that outlet for expressing it. If this is it..your writing, then if it helps, sit in the dark to the glare of your computer and write, write, write. Get it out there. Don’t think about publishing per se…just get on and get it out. And as always we are here.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Writing is such an interesting exercise in introspection and connection. I still don’t totally understand how but it really does help. I never expected to keep a public diary but hey, whatever works : )

      Liked by 1 person

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