Angry

I woke up this morning so angry. It’s not an angry that makes me want to yell and throw things. It’s not an anger from pain. It’s something I can never remember feeling like before. Something from deep inside. I feel physically hot. Like an inferno is welling up from deep inside my soul. It feels like I’m going to bust wide open. The tears have been running down my face for almost a hour but I’m not crying. There is no sadness. I feel no mental pain. And I have no idea what to do with it.

Everything is rushing through my head like a million pairs of feet running a marathon. Their footsteps pounding the pavement, their heavy breathing laced with purpose, drive and emotion. Their bodies sweating with exhaustion and strength.

The questions all flooding back. How could they. Why did they. Why are they. Why are others still supporting them. Why is evil so desquised as good. How can people sympathize with narcissistic borderline sycopathical so called “christian” people.

I sat yesterday for two hours in the therapy session. Biting my tongue and clinching my fists until the nails digging in my flesh screamed at me to stop. I watched the pain come busting out of her soul. I saw her heart physically breaking. I listened to her talk about all the times she had tried to kill herself at the “mad house” and all the times she took a knife to skin to feel temporarily better. I listened to her repeat her mothers words that she grew up on that were still on repeat in her brain. ‘You are worthless. No one comes around us anymore because you are annoying and drive people crazy. I don’t know why God gave you to me. You are a selfish bitch. You are stupid and you will never get anywhere in life. You could never make it out there without us.’ I watched her body heave from the pain of reliving what your mother taught her to be love. I listened to her retelling her nightmare of her father sneaking into her room. Of the darkness and the fear. The terror of what he was going to do next. I saw the fear on her face just to voice the things in a room where she knew she was safe. And my body withered with anger like I have never felt for even myself.

I am angry that there are people like our parents everywhere in this world. I am angry how people can still not see right through them. I am angry that there are people who actually feel sorry for them and want to help them. I am angry how people can so easily hide behind religion and the face of a perfect godly family. Who molested their children in the darkness of the night. Who verbally stripped their children of any self worth, good, hope, dreams, beauty. Who prayed in from of their children asking God why he gave them the kids he did. Who physically abused their children for not pray outloud at prayer time or for being too loud in the house or for not understanding their schooling. Who taught their children fear and hate. I am angry at those who still declare they are our parents no matter what they have done to us. If the family is worth fighting for then that means them too.
I watch my baby brother and sister carry around semi trailers full of pain and baggage, depression, self worthlessness and lies. I watch them fight to care about themselves at all. I watch my sister go through her day trying to focus on anyone and everyone and anything and everything but herself because herself she believes is ugly. Is never good enough. Is trash. Is unworthy. Is broken. And my heart aches and screams.

The tears streaming down my face are angry tears. Strong tears. I am angry. Very angry. And I know I have every right to be angry.