There was a time in my life when I did not show much anger or rarely showed it at best. There was a time in my life when I showed little emotions of any kind or rarely at best. Life for me consisted of repression. Quite, shy , the kid who rarely spoke , that was me. High school altered that somewhat. Or rather mind altering drugs in high school altered that somewhat. I was actually even a quiet drunk most of the time so my drinking career, which ended in October of 94, did not alter my reserved makeup so much. In fact on the contrary, drinking only allowed me to run from problems and allowed for further repression.
Enter twenty plus years of a bad marriage and we are talking repression city with respect to me. It is hard for me to fathom now that I rarely got mad at my first ex even though at one point I hated her. But I rarely did. I held my thoughts and feelings in. It seemed what was in my head or heart would only make a bad situation worse. We are talking repression city folks. Then in late 94 I took my last drink. I began to feel. It was hell stopping. What I felt inside was a major reason it was hell stopping. I began to slowly but surely feel. Slowly I was coming to life. Good feelings, bad feelings, all were rising to the surface and making themselves known.
Over the next couple of years people at work would make comments on how I had changed in a good sort of way. Then in summer 97 I met who would become my second wife. She very much acted as a catalyst in continuing the "emotional surfacing" trend I had been experiencing after 38 some years of deadness inside. She had her own set of problems emotionally but I loved her and it seemed her me. Crying became possible watching commercials on TV. Outburst of anger also became possible while being raged upon. She had a problem of inappropriate anger leading to rage sometimes. It was a fear based problem. Occasionally she would rage at me and I would fire back. That is I did once I learned how to fire back. But I fired back. It was not a healthy thing nor pleasant. For the first time in my life it seemed I found myself talking back to someone with any degree of strength. The problem is I developed an anger problem in the process or I should say my anger was surfacing and being released in a not so good way and usually accompanied by colorful words that were capable of hurting, sometimes deeply. At times I became enraged at her. One time during an extremely heated fight she asked me, "why have you become so mean" ? I instantly looked her squarely in the eyes and told her, "I had a good teacher". End of fight. It was over.
We divorced in the summer of 99. The impact of having known her continue to this day. Emotions continue to be a part of my life as opposed to the old days of repression. It is a direct result of knowing her that I even write. Now I no longer get as angry or as often as I did in those late 90's but anger can rear its ugly head in me. Oh yes it can. And it has. It has. I've learned via both 12 step recovery and therapy that underneath most forms of anger is fear. I believe that.
Last night I got immensely angry. I said awful things. The past few days I had been more than a little fearful. As wonderful as it is to feel alive and full of emotions sometimes I wish I could go back to simpler times. Go back to dullsville where nothing was felt. Getting angry is one thing. Dumping that all over another is another. Today I feel badly. There are no words to undo what has been said or in the venomous way in which it was said. My anger and words have hurt someone that I feel strongly for, that I care more than just deeply for. Two sides to every story? That's what they say. But I am only concerned right now with my side. My side sucks. And it sucks more than a little. Perhaps I am better off remaining alone. I seem to hurt most those I love the most.
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