Is Anger Creating My Pain?

Hi, and Welcome!

I started writing blog posts about a variety of feelings I was holding in my head, over two years ago. It was an attempt to give my fighting-crying body a voice. I had been in physical pain, almost daily, for 10 years.

The voice in my head gets translated in multiple ways. It is often angry. And I believe that the anger inside of me is linked to the inflammation inside of my body. My body’s reaction to the inflammation is pain.

This post includes an origin story dating back to my childhood and an example of how I was met by my mother when I was angry. I wrote them to help describe why the anger is still sitting inside of my body. I believe that holding anger was a pattern learned in childhood.

This entry is a cry from a little girl who wants to be seen, known and acknowledged in her suffering. While this blog doesn’t contain medical or psychological advice—(and don’t take it as such,) I view it as food for thought. A lot of philosophy and creative thinking is laced in my work! Thank you for being here!!

Musings

This is a scenario that I often describe in my therapy sessions:

When I was young I often reacted with tantrums, nicknamed, by my mom “The Volcano” which are fits of rage!

“The Volcano” was my emotional way of releasing tension. In my younger years, after “The Volcano” erupted by yelling loudly, I was told to go to my room.

During this eruption, which includes lots of yelling, I can feel this puffed out feeling in my chest, almost like the hulk when he transforms. Anger starts a visceral feeling of pushing outwards and up through the chest. My neck gets tight. It feels like someone has attached me to strings, like a marionette puppet. The strings run straight through my head, and attach in both sides in the back of my neck. Then there is a sensation of being pulled at an angle, as if being pulled like a dog on a leash. Meaning someone taller and stronger would be pulling me along.

I remember being sent to my room and lying on my bed not knowing what to do next. It was boring, and I had no idea where to place my emotions.

There was no concept of labeling how I was feeling. There were no next steps. I guess at some point I just got bored and left my space and resumed life like nothing was happening inside of me.

As I grew, I eventually was told to calm my emotional outburst by going on a run. Although movement is helpful for a child who is rage-full, both of these routes resulted in ME, having to figure out MY problem—on my own.

With out an adult helping me through my experiences, I felt isolated…

AND I didn’t want to be all alone, so I tried to hold these emotions in. Now I view this emotional stage as the simmering stage.

During the simmering stage I would question in my head:

Doesn’t anyone understand me?

Isn’t anyone seeing what I am seeing here?

When I was young, six or seven, I remember a specific day, when I attempted to cry out for someone to validate these questions that I held inside of me. I actually needed help!! I needed to know that someone was feeling things the way I was feeling them. Maybe someone would hold me giving me a sense of feeling justified while crying!

This is a distinct memory, and for me a life altering day.

I remember it being a hot summer day when I was ditched by my cousins, who were all staying at grandma’s house. There were at least 5 girl cousins a few years older than me. My sister was a part of this group. I remember her telling me that they didn’t want me around anymore—It was time for me to go home.

I lived in a small town, and grandma’s house was a block away from our distinct looking house, covered in natural crumbling red brick and with yellow sandstone decoration.

After walking home alone that day, I didn’t see my mom or other sisters as I walked through the narrow hallway to my room. My room was in the north-east corner of our aging home. I remember the soft summer light coming through the window. Outside of that window there’s a wide purple lilac bush, that danced softly as the wind blew. The packed leaves created shadows and light pockets that wave in the summer breeze. The shadows could been seen through the sheer white curtains.

I lay on my bed crying loudly, exaggerating—increasing the volume, hoping someone would hear! All I wanted was someone to relate to me! I felt isolated, as well as picked on, and I still wanted to be at grandma’s house to play with the older girls. I wanted someone to listen to me or see my point of view.

No one ever came into my room that afternoon.

My way of emoting changed that day, and there was a fierceness that emerged inside of me that said, “I’m going to survive by doing things for me and independently caring for myself.”

“And in order to do so, I need to be the peaceful one. The one who doesn’t seek for attention.” No one will listen anyway. My internal dialog would say, “Let me take care of this on my own.” And this very way of being, I believe increased the simmering anger inside of me. Which then led to a repeated cycle where there were days that “The Volcano” blew its top!

In summary when it came to figuring out this emotional stuff, I was alone.

Where To Go From Here

As I think about the volcano erupting, I also think about being pushed away by those close to me because my emotions were TO BIG.

I was sent to my room, isolated—being left alone.

In my story where I was sent away by my sister, I was looking for someone to console me at home. This story ended again with me being left alone in my room.

These patterns of repression began when I was young. If I suppressed my feelings, maybe I wouldn’t be pushed away

I’m a parent now and have to face my story head on. What will I do to help my child emotionally regulate?

Can I give them more vocabulary behind the emotion?

I’ve been studying and changing my relationship to emotion for years. Ever since my oldest was 4 and having epic tantrums. He’s 12 years old now.

I recently have been studying the work of Dr. Becky Kennedy who is a psychologist that works primarily with parents with kids with BIG feelings (highly sensitive kids).

This is her definition of what a parent’s job is:

“Parents have the job of establishing safety through boundaries, validation and empathy…First and foremost, our job is to keep our children safe physically and psychologically. There is nothing as scary to a child as noticing when the parents failed at their job…” ¹

Do I feel like my parents did their job?

No. I was always floundering in thought and feelings of, “What is wrong with me?”

Did I feel unsure with what to do with my anger as a child? Absolutely! (And and I still feel this way.)

Did I know that being angry was a natural feeling and a valid emotion?

No.

Even though that’s in the past, as an adult these missed cues still mean something because I still relate to myself as being “Wrong” for being angry through my healing journey and through my struggle as a mother in chronic pain.

Now I know this job description, thanks to Dr. Becky. I understand that I’m supposed to keep my kids safe. And validate how they feel when they don’t feel safe…

…but I am often a ticking time bomb, not always knowing when the volcano is simmering heavily. And if I can feel that anger boiling up. (Especially on the days where I over schedule and don’t get enough sleep.)

This Brings Me to My Next Question

If my parents didn’t meet me with empathy. If they didn’t validate how I was feeling. If they didn’t have that skill, can I do it for myself?

I have thought about this question a lot. I would like to meet the younger parts of me and explain that it is ok to have BIG feelings! It’s ok to be angry sometimes.

The other day I went into a fit of rage, but didn’t repress how I was feeling. I literally felt like a full on rage monster. The contrast of suppression, verses letting it all out was astounding. One thing that I noticed differently after my full on tantrum was that I was still angry. All of my problems hadn’t simple disappeared. Physically, I felt a release, but I noticed that my tendons were extremely sore. I made sure to nurse these tendons for the next couple of days. I took a epsom salt bath. I massaged them. I ate more foods that might help reduce the inflammation. I can’t ignore these symptoms and the pain that they cause me. This is why I am doing Story Work. I need to be met in small and simple ways. To call to what was repressed long ago, and what it is saying inside of me, because ultimately I would like to have less physical pain.

1. Kennedy, Dr. Becky, Good Inside: A Guide to Becoming the Parent You Want To Be, New York, Harper Collins, 2022, pg 27[↩]