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#repressed anger
lostmf · 8 months
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furiousgoldfish · 1 year
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One of the issues you run into when you're not allowed to express anger as a child, is that you're no longer able to get angry. When you're in a situation that should evoke rage, you instead feel fear, anxiety, panic, or grief, emotional hurt and helplessness. You end up operating a body that cannot feel or express anger. The only times you do feel angry is when you're directing it at yourself, it comes as a form of self hatred, and desire to cause pain and injury to yourself. Because this is the only way you would have been allowed to be angry, only way it was safe, to direct it at yourself, same as everyone else is doing constantly, teaching you that it's normal and expected.
Growing up like this means that all of the anger from your childhood keeps getting stored into your body instead of externalized, and you still cannot get angry when the situation demands it. Instead, when you're being disrespected and injustice is served in your face, you can either feel helpless and lost, or the frustration you feel irritates you so much you cannot stand it. Your body is not used to feeling anger and doesn't know how to process it. Instead it feels like you're going to explode, restless, endlessly irritated and at a complete loss on how to handle it. Because you never learned how to handle anger, except to take it out on yourself, and you might be driven to just keep doing that, forever.
Taking a stand for yourself and confronting whoever deserved your anger might still feel terrifying and all of the insane things that happened to you as a result of childhood anger might get triggered. You might feel too frightened to confront them because you can imagine all sorts of ways it could come back to hurt you - this person could try to get you fired, for example. They might smear campaign you and get you evicted, they could threaten you with something or blackmail you, they could destroy something of yours, spread rumors, hold a grudge and do thousand times worse to you. Those are thoughts evoked by memories of childhood, where abusive parents threatened and did any or all of these things, including torture, in order to keep you from expressing anger.
However this person is hurting you right now, unprovoked, and getting no resistance. From that, they're learning that they can keep doing it, with zero consequences, because you've already been broken and cannot fight back. That is a dangerous situation to be in too, even if it is impossible to predict whether this person is insane like your parents and will try to get revenge for any bit of resistance for their abuse.
I had situations where I would be pushed over the edge and allowed my anger to come out at someone - and people would sometimes complain about it, but they would usually back off, and I would regain my peace of mind because I created a consequence for disturbing it. Anger, however, doesn't feel good. My body is not used to it so it makes me incredibly tense, stressed, frustrated and upset, and it doesn't go away for several days, even weeks sometimes. Because scratching the surface of it evokes the repressed childhood anger which is almost unbearable with how giant it is.
Human body can learn to process anger, it can feel better, more powerful and more in control because of it. It can protect you without inflicting damage to others. It doesn't make you anything like your abusers, who let their anger out at someone who wasn't their equal, had no way to fight back, and did not deserve any of it. Your anger creates boundaries that keep you safe, it doesn't exist to torture others for existing.
It's easy to fall back into the place where you don't want to be angry, and try to be accommodating and allowing of injustice, just so you don't have to feel frustrated and afraid. I often fall back on it too, just wanting to live and have peace. But life around other people often doesn't allow it, and sometimes anger is necessary to send a message of what boundaries will not be crossed without a consequence. Anger is not a bad feeling, it is an act of self love. It comes out to let you know that you've been treated unfairly and it's there because it's telling you that you matter. That treating you unfairly is something to get mad about.
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mom help she's posting on tumblr instead of facing her feelings again
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vixensofdeath · 8 months
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when I’m angry I’m actually fucking angry, I feel the anger ripping and crawling and scratching through my skin and I feel my brain pulsating. it’s like I can never feel a mild annoyance, I just get so fucking mad that I want to rip everything and everyone in sight apart until I pass out.
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suchsadroses · 11 months
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Angry dog is angry
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everyone-is-emptyy · 1 year
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girlyteengirl16 · 9 months
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i don’t need therapy i need them to die
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bunnighost · 10 months
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fuckingwhateverdude · 7 months
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10.10.23
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t0k0-fukawa · 1 year
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RAGE AND ANGER
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lostmf · 6 months
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mango-iex · 9 months
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My campus has a lot of scenic places that make for beautiful pictures! Especially on a cold and boring night!
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emotionalblunting · 7 months
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9/12/23
If you're not expressing it - you're repressing it.
And we all know that doesn't do you any good...
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pryce0 · 1 year
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im a big fan of your work & would love to read something about the reader saying some hurtful things to arthur during an argument (like he was already insecure about that, maybe related to him being a bad man) and then apologising to him after and making sure that he doesnt think that about himself I JUST KNOW YOUD WRITE THAT PERFECTLY
Am I a Bad Man? - Arthur Morgan x GN!Reader (Part 1)
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gif by; unknown :-(
word count; 715
last part: here
Masterlist: here
a/n: ANON. THIS IS 2 MONTHS LATE I AM SO SORRY. I LOVE YOU I AM SO SORRY. i also had to split this up into 2 parts, i’m so sorry!! i promise to get the second part out as soon as my brain lets me write properly <3
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Everything has been pissing you off lately. Someone always ends up in the way of your chores; trying to chop wood? Sean is nagging your ear off. Carrying sacks for Pearson? Every single fucking person is standing in your way. Trying to wash clothes? All of the damn men decide to pile their shit on you instead of the others also washing at the same time.
No one really noticed your frustration, either. It’s not like you expected anyone to but it would be nice if everyone would learn some damn self spacial awareness, maybe step to the side when a huffing and puffing person is marching through camp while carrying sacks. It doesn’t help that you’ve been mostly annoyed with Arthur. Every time you need something, he’s gone, doing something that Dutch set him off to do. Like a damn dog. Currently, the camp is celebrating someone’s big heist. As much as it would bring you joy to join the celebration, the joint singing and the guitar strums are quite frankly, just pissing you off. The hot anger is rising in your stomach to your throat from every giggle, every yell. You can’t take it right now.
You find yourself wandering a bit outside of camp with a whiskey in hand you took on your way out. “A drink right now sounds fabulous.” You mutter as you uncap the delicious drink. As soon as you were about to take a sip, of course, just someone had to bother you.
Arthur calls your name from a small distance away which sets fire inside of your soul. You growl and turn to the man who’s approaching you, his eyebrows furrowed. Not like you can see much in the dark which subsequently makes you rage. You open your mouth, interrupting whatever he was saying; not like you were listening too well.. “Nice to see you too, Arthur, but I really need some time alone.” You bark, finally taking a sip of your whiskey. Arthur blinks at you before he opens his mouth again. “Look, I get it, you need your alone time, and I’ll be outta your hair in just a moment,” He mutters. “I have to be on my way anyw-“
“Can’t you get to the fucking point, Morgan? I’m losing my goddamn mind with every word that comes out of your mouth right now!” You snap at him, your knuckles white as you clutch your bottle quite tightly. Arthur growls under his breath as he approaches you, now anger radiating off of him. His boots crunch the grass and weeds under him, his finger pointing at your chest, accusatory. “Hey now, you’ve had a bad day, but don’t fuckin’ take it out on me!”
You laugh before you take a sip, attempting to settle your nerves. You swallow and wipe your mouth, glaring at him. “Get the fuck out of here, Arthur. I’m in seriously no mood to be dealin’ with you right now. You said you had somethin’ to do, right? Why don’t you fucking go run along do your job Dutch gave to you?” You seethe, pushing the finger that was pointing at you away. “Yeah, go fucking do your job like the goddamn mutt you are, Morgan. Go kill for him, go torture for Dutch. Live up to your reputation, why don’t you?? Oh, it isn’t even a fucking reputation by this point, it’s the truth.”
There’s nothing but the distant sound of the gang celebrating after your piercing sentence. Arthur’s jaw is dropped, looking back at you with such betrayal. Your heart drops to your stomach as you process everything you just said. Cold panic floods your veins as you watch him stutter in pure shock and anger. “Fuck, Arthur, I-“ “Don’t.”
You immediately shut up but your stomach twists as he looks furious and, and, sad. He looks nearly devastated. “Nevermind.” He mutters, turning around and walking back to camp without a word. “Arthur!” You call after him, your throat tightening. You jog up the path to catch up but you’re met the sight of Arthur on his horse which makes your heart skip. “Arthur, please! I’m sorry!” You attempt to yell, but the wind blows against you from him galloping out of camp.
“Fuck.”
You messed up big time.
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vulpinae · 5 months
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I. The Reluctant Bride - Auguste Toulmouche
II. Letter to my Rage: An Evolution - Lidia Yuknavitch
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caravanofdreamers · 11 months
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I gave birth to an obscene anger
A raging, beastly blood curdling anger which good girls choke on.
An anger that devours.
I held onto it until it took hold of me .
It stayed with me when everything left,
My anger was a portal to my grief,
A portal that protected me as the years fell upon me.
My anger that saved me .
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