Tag Archives: Rage


Sometimes I want to rage at everyone, all the liars, the manipulators, the insensitive ones, the ones who can’t look me in the eye or make time for me.

It was easy when I drank to release the beast inside. I screamed, threw things, swung my fists at the nearest offender.

The problem is there will always be a bigger, badder, beast than you. When that day comes it changes you.

You swallow any anger, rage, resentment, fear, sadness, for as long as you can. You are too afraid to release any of it because of that one moment you were crushed, broken into a million pieces.

There was nothing left of you after that. Your smile never quite reached your eyes again, your laughter sounded forced, fake, at least to your own ears. No one else noticed you just going through the motions. No one noticed how jumpy you became when a door slammed or voices were raised. How you had to have your back to a wall so you could see every person coming and going. NO ONE NOTICED.

They now notice a sliver of the beast creeping out here and there. Eventually you get full, you can only swallow so much.

What happens when the beast is set completely free? Self-destruction is the only hand I have left to play.

Everyone has gone. I stayed silent too long or not long enough depending on who you ask.



When you’re a person that has always been afraid conflict you have a tendency to push down any anger of your own. You don’t defend yourself often and stay quiet. Eventually this catches up to you.

I used to have a problem once in awhile, usually while drinking, but it tapered off as I got older. Except I find in the last year I’m having more periods of rage. Times where I want to throw something, punch a wall, and scream until I lose my voice. I can’t always tell the difference between rage and pain.

My sister has refused to have contact with me since Saturday which is unusual for us. We usually don’t go more than 3 days without at least a text because I stalk her with texts. This time I’m not. I’m not begging for my twin sister to like me.

My Dad’s hearing has either gotten extremely worse or he’s pretending it is because when I talk to him he acts like he can’t hear me until I throw something at him.

I hate repeating myself because my voice isn’t strong it never has been. I’ve had a sore throat for months now and I have trouble remembering words most times. If I start to get stressed then I start to stutter which makes it all worse. So I don’t bother anymore. I sit by myself everyday, I only talk out loud to the dogs sometimes.

The bad thing about this is when I have to go out in public and talk to someone. I feel like I’ve lost the ability for conversation. My throat feels rusty. I worry I’m making a fool of myself. Then I stay home more and more.

I just tried talking to my Dad about something on the news. One minute in I notice he isn’t looking at me and his eyes are blank. It’s like I’m not there, I’m invisible, what I was told by other people in that one moment is all true. I don’t matter, no one will ever love me, I’m a waste of space, ugly, nothing, I don’t deserve to live. The hamster wheel starts with all of these thoughts and the voices that went with them.

You can heal physically, for the most part I did. Emotionally I have never healed from my past. When I think of when I was locked in a bathroom not allowed out until I cut my wrist while they stood on the other side of the door taunting me I want to vomit. I allowed that and maybe I deserved it. If my own family can’t be around me than maybe I am that bad.

I feel like I want my Mom and I want to go home but I’m already home. So I’ll wait it out because I know it’s temporary or at least I hope it is.Klimt-Crying-Woman



I just read a post by Pieces of Bipolar that made me face something I’ve been avoiding. My uncontrollable anger or rage. I used to think that I only experienced this while I was drinking. The truth is I only became physical when I was drinking. There are times where I bubble over and explode into a curse laden, head spinning, hate spewing, diatribe.

I honestly never start the explosion. There is usually a trigger. The other person has known there are triggers and warning signs and has continued anyway.

I’m trying not to make excuses but it’s hard. The day I fought with my brother in law I sat in my sister’s car later on and couldn’t remember most of what I said. I couldn’t remember the spittle flying out of my mouth with the words. I didn’t remember threatening him or calling him a “little f*cking man” who didn’t know how to step up and take care of his family. I sat in that car rocking back and forth with the sound of bees in my head and tears streaming down my face. I knew my hands felt hot and tingly and I was shaking.

I recently had a fight with my sister where I said horrible things to her. I called her the C word amongst various other lovely names. Again, my father found me later on the bathroom floor in a puddle of drool. I didn’t remember most of it. I knew it wasn’t good but I didn’t know just how bad it was.

I always thought it was the really crazy people that did these things. This wasn’t me. I wasn’t out of control. But I was. I was. I am.

How do you control it when the people around you refuse to believe or understand what you go through? They yes you to death or say to your face that you’re lying about what you can and can’t control. Some of them want actual scientific proof. My sister would like a note from my Doctors listing what I should and should not be held responsible for.

I have never asked anyone to not hold me accountable for my actions. I do have cognitive issues, trauma issues, that sometimes leave me in state of fear. I may get defensive but I mostly cry too much. I can count how many times I have had outbursts. I do not think it’s a coincidence that I became worse as it got closer to the time I needed my stents changed. Since having them changed my dad has noticed a change in my mood. A change for the better. I still have a fever and an infection but at least the stents are working.

I do have triggers. I know I do. If someone wants to argue with me about AA, or how CBT and writing about their 5 year plan saved their life, then they might want to run in the other direction. I have serious issues with both of these issues. When a Therapist you are meeting for the first time after trying to kill yourself tells you that you need to start a journal of how you see yourself in 5 years, that Therapists needs said journal shoved up their said asses. (Excuse improper language)

If you have had really bad experiences with AA on more than one occasion, but someone still insists on shoving it down your throat knowing how you feel, then you are allowed to explode. They’ve been warned.

If there are sensitive subjects involving your mother’s death but one person insists on visiting her grave constantly and stirring up trouble, get your safety hat on. You were warned. Repeatedly. In writing.

The public and our own families think they know everything there is to know from Dr. Phil, Dr. Oz, Oprah, MSNBC, or some TV show that has a Bipolar character. They don’t. They never will. I’m tired of holding my breath waiting for them to get it. I’ll be dead before they do.

I thought my sister finally had when two Psychiatrists told her Bipolar Disorder is one of the worse illnesses to deal with. They wouldn’t wish it on anyone because of the way they see how their patients suffer. How a majority can’t find a balance and don’t make it. You think she would’ve understood things a little more. Because I am in that percentage that is predicted to “not make it”. Sometimes I find that to be a relief.

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