The Anger Of Abuse

In the last few weeks, I’ve seen a lot of posts in my reader about awful experiences: depression, anxiety, abuse, rape, molestation. So many of you have been through so much and you have tremendous courage in sharing it with the rest of us. It’s pretty amazing when you think about it. Twenty years ago, this wouldn’t have been possible. At least, not in the bloggy way we bear our souls to each other now. I haven’t met any of you in person, but I know you all. I know your stories and your hardships, and they absolutely break my heart.

I get pissed off by my story, by my victim-hood, but then I read about your struggles and it humbles me. It grounds me. No matter what I’ve gone through, and I’ve gone through an awful lot of evil shit, at least mine is in the past. There are some of you who are currently experiencing terrible things and that I cannot abide.

I want to smash the monsters and the shadows that hover above us in the dark. I want to wrap all of us up and carry us to safety, but there is nowhere safe enough. There is nowhere in this world that is free of monsters, anxiety or illness, and the unfairness of it all just straight-up pisses me right the fuck off.

I have so much anger within me, for me and for you, that I feel like I will burst sometimes. I will shred my shirt like the Incredible Hulk and go on a rampage. It scares me how much anger I have inside of me, but it is mine. I made it. I crafted it myself, unlike the fear and the hurt and the pain. I inherited those. Those were given to me by monsters and I don’t like touching them. But the anger is all mine, which is why it’s still my go-to emotion. It is my first response, and most of the time, I can’t make it past that to whatever is on the other side.
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Anger is all I really have to give you. I don’t have much else, besides empathy, to salve our wounds. When I think of my story, I get angry, but when I think of yours, it makes me even angrier. I’m not sure why that is. I think it’s always easier to deal with someone else’s problems than your own. It’s kind of like how most of use give better advice than we follow ourselves.

Plus, there’s the guilt I feel at the knowledge that my monsters are still out there, free to create more victims. I feel guilty that I was not able to stop them, for me or for anyone else. That there could have been more victims after me makes me feel homicidal.

I want to save you and I want to save myself, but I just don’t know how. I want to take your pain and mine and make it disappear. I want to get rid of some of this anger, but I don’t know where to put it. I don’t know any other way. I don’t have any answers. I don’t have anything to offer. I just want all of you to know that you’re not alone. I’m here, too, and I’ve got your back. I want you to know that your presence here on this fishy blog means a lot to me. Thanks for being part of my little community. We’ll figure it all out somehow. We always do, right?