Maybe the journey isn’t so much about becoming anything. Maybe it’s about unbecoming everything that isn’t really you, so you can be who you were meant to be in the first place. ~Paul Coelho
She seethed with anger, hissing with a violent soft fury through her clenched teeth. Her tiny tense seven-year-old body shaking ever so subtly, elbows and knees locked, hands in fists vibrating at her sides with her eyes slits of fury and tears. She was trying to hold her anger in but it was like boiling kettle trying to contain steam inside.
I put my hand on her heart and cupped her cheek with the other hand and I asked her to tell me in words how she was feeling.
The staccato words she uttered with such sad anger, pure anguish through gritted teeth were “I. Am. So. angry. I. Feel. Like….I feel like…I feel like…I. Want. To…” she didn’t want to say it.
“Hit something?” I asked gently.
Continue reading “The Alchemy of Inherited Anger”
She managed to spit out “Hit Someone” before she broke out crying with heaving sobs.
The chemistry was palpable and it was overwhelming. To feel safe, I clearly stated my boundaries – nothing was going to happen between us. The response was there was no need to state boundaries, that he was a safe person, it would be cool if we just wanted to kiss, but he was safe. So I restated very clearly my need to set boundaries and again the need was rebuked, because according to him there was no need. He was a safe person. I said it again and he restated he was safe.
Nothing happened, he was respectful of my personal space. I was safe.
I doubted my inner voice. Why was I so adamant about setting boundaries? Was this fear speaking?
One night, when my daughter was four, I was sleeping in a cot in her room to help her fall asleep since she was scared of the dark and did not like to sleep alone. As I lay there I heard the door to my bedroom open and then the sound of my parents arguing. […]
I was seething in my own anger. I was mad at my husband and my daughter pleaded with me to understand his point of view and make amends. All I wanted was a little bit of space to be angry and breathe, so I walked off. And then I heard the broken voice of my […]
When I was 12, I began to cut myself. The pain felt good. It took me far away and my body could feel. Luckily I realized I did not want to be addicted to cutting. So I started to beautify myself by piercing my ears. No ice or anything, just earrings I pushed ever so […]
It seemed so simple. Just go to her, put my arms around her. Tell her that I loved her, that I always loved her, even when she was angry. That I was there to listen to her. That we could work together. That it was OK to be angry. It was what I always did and how we worked through her anger. And I did just that because I loved her and this seemed like a response based on love. It all seemed so simple. But this time, the moment I held her and told her I loved her I realized the truth of my actions. The action was not based on love but on fear.