Heal in Place. Fill your Still. Anger. I used to be angry…most of the time. I have a mother, father and stepfather with various personality disorders who erratically switch back and forth from being overly demanding or callously indifferent. I was set up for a life of no confidence, perpetual sadness masked by raged and an addiction to results and outcomes. I carried terrible shame of coming from people who didn’t give me the attention I needed and deserved – as all young children do. Throughout adulthood, the occasional flashbacks and anxiety attacks seemed to never end. And neither did questioning my ability to be a good mother. I was constantly in fear of not being strong enough to break the cycle of abuse.
When you have a temper like I used to, it is difficult to admit there's a problem. I would go from zero to 100 too often. I would snap, freak out, feel guilty and repeat that cycle. I was a boiling kettle with nowhere for the steam to go. If a kettle has no way to release steam, it explodes…like I used to. Looking back, I wish I had more self-control but at the time it seemed impossible to change. I saw my anger as a genetic flaw that I had to put up with along with the negative consequences that always followed my tantrums.
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