anger and fear and words

The last two posts at Bedlam Farm have been very  meaningful to me.  Jon (that blog's author) is dealing with anger - and he speaks of anger becoming fear.  When we feel anger, we need to express it, not hold it in.  One of the best things Boyd and I have grown to be able to do is argue and be angry with each other - and a little while later show love again to each other.  It has taken us 30 years to be able to do that.  I'm a bit of an emotional cripple.  Thank God for Boyd.  Our strange mismatched collection of baggage suits us.  It hasn't always.

I have stuffed so many words of anger down inside my guts over the years; all my life.  The words are all still down there, but they have been thoroughly mashed into an unrecognizable wad of bilious goo.  I have been working hard to get them out, wash them off and deal with them.  Sounds like an easy task, but ...no, it is not easy.  In my dreams random words just spill out of my mouth to total strangers, but in reality I battle the fear of rejection for my feelings, for my words, about ... whatever topic it happens to be at the time.   Again - thank God for Boyd...and for my shrink Patty, those listeners who gently guide me through the world and keep me from falling off the cliff.

Some of the books I've been reading have dealt with this same phenomenon.  The books "Speak" and "The Bell Jar" showed me some of the traumatized blank nothingnesses of mental illness. The lack of words in both works left me feeling shaken and unnerved.  And, in both instances, had the women spoken their words, their anger, their complaints - at the point of trauma - their situations could have been entirely different.  Their illnesses may have never materialized.

In my youth I considered my ability to hold my tongue a great strength.  I thought it was better to be kind and to be careful to not hurt anyone; even if it meant I hurt myself because of it.  I thought I was a strong person and could handle it.  And I was strong - for about 30 years.  And then life became a bit too hard for me.  Perhaps if I had not over-burdened myself with the weight of all those unspoken words of anger, (fermenting  in my core) I could have stayed healthy and strong.  Perhaps I would have not been so afraid of emotions and could have experienced them more fully and clearly.  And if I was lucky, that could have been a good thing.