Part of my anxiety is another side of me, a while away from positive self I’d like to be. I have suffered from depression in my life but the thing that runs in the family is anger.
Ever since I was small, my parents have had huge rows. Rows that are constantly ongoing. From experiencing this throughout my childhood, it was a shock for me at university to realise you could resolve your problems without shouting at someone. I like to pride myself in staying calm and that discussion is the way forward instead.
I don’t shout ever really, maybe I should just to let out some tension! But it seems if I try to hold in my anxiety it ends in me becoming more and more angry, until it hurts. I harp on about it all the time but living by yourself, it’s hard to release tension as you don’t have someone to share your insecurities with. This in turn builds up inside me.
I hate it. It reminds me of my Dad, forever a man who can’t forget his past and who gets angry for fun, or just because it’s a part of his life. It always has been while I’ve been around.
I never want to get angry with my children, I want to teach them to be honest and able to mediate well. I just fear that I won’t be able to accomplish that myself. Now my friend is moving to live with me, I hope that a lot of this kind of thing will ease but it’s never easy to go through a period of time when you feel so angry and become even more angry that you feel this way. I just get stuck in my head sometimes, on the words someone said flippantly today or the deep meaning behind the person the bus’ fleeting glance.
Anger is often a mutation of my own insecurities being put onto others.