Ask me a few years back,

What anger? I’d say.

Good girls aren’t angry and I’m a good girl.

Angry? Me?

No that’s not allowed, not ladylike,

wrong. I’m not allowed

anger, not me.

I know I was taught it in childhood,

from then.

My parents know best – no anger in me.

In them?

Oh yes, every day – some rage,

or irritation that grows into a tornado –

a punch, a push, a scream, a yell.

See another reason I can’t do it –

It’s dangerous you see,

A black eye, slammed door

A giant dark red cloud gathering

and maybe so angry

she tries to die.

No, this anger is dangerous,

too dangerous for me.

I can still hear her screaming from the other room

Calling my name.

I trembled and pleased,

tried to pacify and calm.

I can’t add my anger to this crazy storm.

Children can be seen, but not heard.

So no I’m not angry,

angry I’m not.

Stop asking me, I say with a smile.

Stop asking me, stop!

There it is you’ve done it! You’ve burst my dam.

You told me I allowed to feel it.

I keep fighting it until I can’t anymore.

I like pretending I didn’t have it to the rest of the world,

because then I felt stronger,

invincible, justified and not weak.

If I don’t hold it in then who will I be?

A target again for all of those lies,

the shoving and pushing

and putting me down.

If I don’t hold it in,

seething only inside

I’ll feel vunerable, fragile

and terribly afraid.

Then the fear brings up the tightness in my chest

that is full of the tears

I’m scared to feel.

Stop telling please it’s okay to feel.

I need to hold on, please I want to keep it in.

But it’s wrong?

You’re telling me its wrong –

it’s hurting myself and others, you say.

Like invisible darts its flying their way?

Feel it, you keep saying.

I’m losing my fight.

It really does hurt, this anger

inside – a deep knotted ball,

on fire in me.

Burning up my soul.

What am I angry about?

Let me see…

I’M ANGRY ABOUT WHAT HAPPENED TO ME!

I’M ANGRY THEY HURT ME, SHAMED ME

FOR BEING ME.

ONLY WANTED THE VERSION THEY WANTED TO SEE.

I’M FUCKING PISSED OFF

THAT THEY DIDN’T WANT ME.

JUST CRITICISED, PICKED AT, JUDGED

AND MADE TO FEEL BAD

JUST FOR BREATHING,

MOVING, CRYING, DREAMING.

I’M ANGRY THAT HER INCESTOUS LOVE

TORE AT MY SOUL AND RIPPED IT TO SHREDS.

I’M PISSED THAT IT INFILTRATED ME,

SUCKED MY LIFE

AND TURNED ME INTO HER SLAVE.

I’M ANGRY WE MOVED AND MOVED AND MOVED

AGAIN.

NO CHANCE FOR FRIENDS,

CONNECTIONS OR SECURITY.

THAT LED TO HUGE SOCIAL ANXIETY.

I’M ANGRY I LIVE JUMPING AT EVERY SOUND

AND MY LOW SELF WORTH

TOOK ME TO SEEK ‘LOVE’ IN ALL THE DARK PLACES

WHERE SHAME DROWNED ME OUT

AND SUNK ME DEEP.

I’M ANGRY IT TOOK TO BE A VAGINA AND TITS

A PERFORMING MONKEY

JUST FOR YOUR PLEASURE

AND YOU TOOK WHAT YOU WANTED,

SPIKED MY DRINK.

A HOLE JUST TO FUCK – NO LOVE.

I’M ANGRY I COMPROMISED MYSELF

THAT I DIDN’T SEE SOONER,

WHAT I NEEDED TO SEE.

I’M ANGRY AT EVERYONE WHO DIDN’T SEE ME,

JUST WHAT THEY COULD GET

AND ANGRY I GAVE IT JUST FOR APPROVAL

AND SAFETY.

I’M ANGRY THAT GOD NEVER ANSWERED MY CALL

OR SO IT SEEMED THAT WAY

THEN REMEMBER IT WAS YOU

WHO LEFT ME, I WAS ALWAYS ALONE

IN THE FAMILY – WE WERE NOT

JUST A CULT, YOUR RULES ONLY –

YOUR NEEDS FIRST.

MADE TO FEEL GUILTY, BEHOLDEN

JUST FOR BEING BORN.

WHY DID YOU HAVE ME? IF I WAS JUST IN THE WAY,

NOT GOOD ENOUGH, TOO SENSITIVE –

JUST NOT FOR YOU.

IF YOU HATED ME SO WHY DO YOU PRETEND?

I’M ANGRY, SO ANGRY

SEE I’M LETTING IT OUT…

Then finding out…

underneath

I’m so, so sad.

by Maxine February 2021

Facing the truth about our parents is one of the places we find the most difficult and are very resistive to feel about. I have struggled for years. I have acknowledged some things, but emotionally just not been to feel the truth. This unwillingness to not feel creates multi-generational pain…my mother hurt me because she hadn’t felt her own pain, as her mother did to her and so on and what I have also done to my children – my own suppression, shame and fear of emotion damaged them hugely. It is a sad cycle that needs breaking. Jesus told me in 2019 that I need to feel my anger to get below to my grief. It’s taken me this long to even start and it is actually proving a huge relief. It’s still not easy, because of all the false beliefs I had about feeling anger and the desire to feel powerful and not fragile as I really felt. But, God made us to feel. God made me to feel. It’s where we come alive and connect to our soul and really quite beautiful. I long for the day when I surrender to my emotions every day, every moment.

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