Anger: PTSIs' REALLY ugly cousin! | #PTSDchat
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Anger: PTSIs’ REALLY ugly cousin!

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Friday, November 3, 2017, 1630 Hrs.


I’m a bit angry today, no apologies, just a warning that this blog WILL be different than past posts. “You read this; at your own peril!” as they say in some movies!



Events are triggered, actions take place, an aftermath is dealt with, and there may be casualties who were not intended to be so.



Confusion of thoughts, uninterrupted chaos at times, that have no certainty of outcome, vicious headaches as the triggers keep firing off and setting off the alarms to stop the processes from taking place. All of this confusion all of this negativity, and no one to explain why it’s happening.



I get angry when I have a reaction, it makes me feel like once again, I’m being manipulated and controlled without my being able to have a say in how it takes place. It always pisses me off to feel under the control of outside forces. Why should I have to accept this crap?



The rules say that a person should not become angry over minuscule things, but I say why the hell not? Why shouldn’t I feel anger and then express it as well? After all, the emotional imbalance has just disturbed my calm, so I have the right to be as angry as I want to feel! Maybe there is something to controlling oneself, but there has to be as well, an option for displaying one’s anger. It’s not all sugar and spice, there has to be an outlet for the emotional steam that builds up within my mind, or am I asking for too much here?



I have a propensity for doing this you know: asking for the things that I think I need to have, so don’t be surprised by it, it’s just a part of me as a person. I get over it when it happens, but I never ask for anyone else to do the same. Let’s be practical about this; differences can be dismantling of our perceptions about one another, and the truth about a person’s reality can be disheartening and most difficult to accept.



The beauty we see on the outside is nothing in comparison to the raw and most differently constructed internal person. The one we have to get to know in spurts and in well portioned out pieces. Even people who get married spend years learning to whom it is they are attached. Sometimes, the true person is too much or too little to accept, and separation is the only way to deal with the discovery. But how does one separate from his or her own real identity? Or from the one that emotional injuries try to force us to accept? Ah, the rubbing of the ointment into the eyes moment has arrived now! Will it sooth or will it burn and inflict pain? Time is the only friend to finding out the truth.



Ill-treatment of some kind is always how emotions are injured. We see the results of unhealed wounds as infected pockets of pain and of the rotting away of the control of the conscious self. Maybe or not, we can come to the grips of what we truly are, maybe PTSI and other emotional issues ARE our true selves! If we could find that out for certain, could we accept the information?



Is anger ugly, really? Or is ugliness the partner we deny in order to keep up the façade that we are more than our animalistic selves? Are we remaining unavailable to that part of ourselves that would strengthen us into beings of unlimited use of their potential?



Can raw and unchecked anger be the adhesive to healing what has been injured, broken left to adhere itself to that which is not angry, and unavailable to us, until the sheath is damaged? Can this be more than we are being told it is because no one is willing to accept that we are still raw and youthful, unhindered by the fetters of education which often make us ignorant to the facts that just so happen to be the truth?



Ae we merely showing the unfettered rawness of our true selves? Those beings who are angry and have been reigned-in by socialization etiquette lies which tells us that we must act differently? Is the human animal truly a raw, angry, disorganized, dangerous being who cares little about anyone outside of himself or herself?



Anger is ugly, it causes no beauty to exist in its presence, but it can be resultant in the creation of beauty in order to replace the negative aspects of its wake. Hey, is this a cathartic moment? Have I come to a point where I have found at least a part of the answer? Nah…I’m disordered remember? How could I possibly come up with an answer to such a complex question as this one?



I dare to breathe air every day because I need to live, I need to help I need to be helped. I need to be more human than I am a machine. I need to be more of a child than an adult when it comes to finding out how this emotional illness thing really works. Children seek answers to their questions, adults simply seem to ask them in the attempt to appear to be intellectually more adept than other persons. I am alright with my inner-child because he will relay the information to the adult me.


And you know what? I don’t know whether or not he’s ugly, but I do know that he’s not angry.




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