“We're trying to be grown-up and love each other and understand how the hell you're supposed to insert USB leads. We're looking for something to cling on to, something to fight for, something to look forward to. We're doing all we can to teach our children how to swim. We have all of this in common, yet most of us remain strangers, we never know what we do to each other, how your life is affected by mine.(…)”
Anxious People by Fredrik Backman
I get angry very easily. With this, I mean I get pissed off (triggered might be the right word). Far quicker than I wish, I hit the ceiling, go ballistic, blow a fuse, or whatever other idioms google finds to express ‘extreme anger’. It’s a trait I believe I picked up from my father mostly, although I see it in all of us these days, and it makes me utterly sad. It gets worse when I’m stuck at home during holidays, or you know, the times of covid confinement. It was the 4 of us, stuck, pressing each others buttons continuously. Being careless, and scratching our souls with the sharp edges of our words and actions.
There are instances where I just want to be…. a wreck. Anger is so easy, so tempting, and there are times where I want to lose myself in my livid rage, drown in it, reach the bottom. Moments where I want to be spiteful, hateful, loud. Angry. Where I don’t want to hold myself back, and really speak what comes to my mind. Maybe it’s wrong of me to feel this way, but most cases we can’t really control whatever feelings we have. However, what we can do is choose not to act upon them. When it comes to my irritations, I almost never do anything about them.
In the rare instances when I do, I regret it almost immediately. Whenever I do snap, it’s never met the way I wish it was, and that gap between expectations and reality seems to only add fuel to the fire, only making me angrier and feeling more like…some kind of beast. Hopelessly, I wish anger could be soft. I wish anger felt less like wreaking havoc, like destroying something with my bare hands and teeth.
My quick response to anger is to swallow it, to go completely silent and numb. My mind mulls over it like a cow chewing grass, and it’s usually pretty obvious that I’m not okay. That prompts questions, but answering questions truthfully means that I must open up, and opening up is letting the anger out. I live in a house where a lot of my emotions weren’t, aren’t… accepted. I won’t say allowed, but it’d be a lie to admit that I don’t think twice before speaking, fearful of what ruckus it might start. It’s innate now, closing up like a clam to.. process? To let myself feel whatever I’m feeling? To control it?
The people that surround us shape us. It took me growing up to even consider that the way we’re raised as a children changes our behaviours down the line, especially the relationships we have with our family. It’s a real thing too, not something made up that you found on the internet; there are various styles of parenting, different ways to nurture your child’s upbringing, and all those paired up by how those around us react, welcome and accept whatever happens really takes a tool on how we’ll embrace future similar situations. It was actually a tiktok about picking bad habits as a child that even prompted me to speak about this, followed by a situation in my life where I hit a wall of self-realisation (being completely silent), but this isn’t a new topic. This has been lying in a corner for a while.
Would you believe it if I told you I thought it was normal, to be scolded anytime you share emotions? It’s frustrating, and overwhelming, but it happens a lot in my household. Sometimes what I share starts an argument. Sometimes I’m made fun of when I share I want to be left alone or the reasons why I’m “not happy”. It’s hard to say anything because I won’t be taken seriously, and I can’t tell if it’s because I’m the youngest, or a girl, or if they view my feelings, emotions and opinions as naive. I spent many years believing, and to this day I still think some of it might be true, that in the same way they never thaught me to be okay with anger, they too never learned it from their parents. Old portuguese households especially, they can be quite conservative and hold hateful views regarding anything that’s emotional.
There’s an unspoken aura of ‘parents are never wrong’ around here. Anything I say becomes a weapon, even if it’s teasing, ‘playful’ the same way they too are playful with me. It’s like I’m trying to cross a dead end street, insisting that the wall is a mirage and that I can get through it, but I always crash the car. A lot of what they do, I know now, it’s what really sets off the anger: how my brother sighs when he’s tired or angry, mumbling to himself, how my dad argues and speaks loudly, always with an opinion (usually negative) about everything that he just has to share with the class, looking for validation and agreements; how my mom lets herself be walked over and would rather avoid conflicts by trying to communicate her reasons. I could go on and on.
And it’s all incredibly ironic because I’m no better. Again, the people around us shape us in ways we never notice. I sigh when I’m trying to contain my anger. The anger I hold normally translates into a lot of negative deprecation talk. And, by not even trying to express it in any way, I’m running from trouble, from confrontation. I probably shape them in some way or another too, it’s hard to remember them right away.
Maybe it’s a bit embarrassing to admit, but that’s why I love this space here so much. It’s not because I’m not met with negative critique or because everyone is so supportive (although the later helps), it’s because people root for communication and I believe they aren’t afraid, defensive to… not reach an agreement, to hear different thoughts over the same thing, to admit that maybe they were mistaken, or didn’t know much, or didn’t consider a different point of view.
Sometimes, I just get sick of being scolded because I’m angry, or because I’m taking something too seriously, or because I’m making a storm out of nothing. Even with the bestest of intentions, being yelled or reprimanded doesn’t bring comfort, or calm down anyone. I’d rather someone nodded and said nothing, regardless of how awkward it’d be at first. I’d rather have someone who’d push me to speak more about it, to use empathy instead of shutting a door in my face. But alas, maybe I just ask for too much, for a luxury I can’t have. Is it wishful thinking to want a positive change, for once, when I open my mouth?
So, this brings me here, in a place where I crave to unlearn all these habits but in a space that won’t seem to let me. I don’t feel safe, as much as I might love my family, to talk it out. I’ll be yelled or teased until i do reach the breaking point, and all the blame will wash over me like a tide. Everything i do or don’t do feels wrong. All the empathy or compassion I try to use upon them, by telling myself ‘they’re doing the best they can’, ‘they’re doing as they were taught’, ‘they’re just trying’, feels worthless, because…so am I. Would it change anything if I stopped putting barriers? If I wasn’t as afraid or sure of the outcome each time? If I accepted that change in this family can only happen through screaming and shouting and complaining and reprimanding?
Journaling helps. Being here helps. And I try to compensate what I can’t find here by creating it elsewhere. With my friends, by asking if I can vent, by wording myself in the clearest ways possible, by asking them if they want to talk about whatever they’re going through. It doesn’t solve the problem but it does ease the pain, it makes me believe that there is better - that, yes, people can accept unpleasant emotions and opinions, and it won’t feel like the whole world is crashing down upon me. That we can shape each other without hurting each other, or making anyone feel inferior, less. That anger isn't all there is to us.
Thank you for reading delicate this week. I hope the heat isn't being too harsh on you (if you happen to be in its climate), and that you keep yourself hydrated no matter the weather.
You probably noticed this isn’t the part III of last weeks’ post. I decided to return to it next week and tidy everything up all nice. It felt tedious to go over it again with no pause or a breather.
delicacies of the week
A friend recommended me Omar Apollo’s latest album, Ivory. I had heard a few of his tracks before and I’m a fan of his voice, but didn’t see myself enjoying the feel as much as I did. It has addictive beats and a R&B feel, with most songs not surpassing 2 minutes.
Exurb1a is a channel whose videos are a blend between philosophy, creativity and insanity. I always feel weirded out (in the best way possible) while watching his creations. This is his latest video.
songs of the week: tek it by cafuné, hello anxiety by phum viphurit and evergreen by omar apollo
inês, as always i'm so touched by your writing and feel so connected to your experience!! honestly, it resonates a lot with me, i had severe anger issues growing up (also taken after my father, what's up with that lmao), and i'm trying to adapt healthier habits. i'm so grateful you're constantly being open and vulnerable on your newsletter, so happy it seems to help you a little!! i wish you all the best on this journey and i am convinced you're on the right path. i'm not trying to be cheesy, i just really notice the depth of your dedication to improve in your kind reminders and your self-awareness. take care!! xx
Many times I find myself regretting my actions after I decided to let my anger out because almost every time, I hurt someone in the process. Sometimes I even feel guilty because I thought the hurt is justified in that I am finally able to express my feelings and have it be heard. I think the issue really doesn't lie in yourself being angry and being explosive, but that nobody changes after your anger so it made you feel like all that emotions was useless, or that your dread wasn't worth the trouble of correction. I, too, wondered if my anger can be soft, but I realized (cynically, maybe) anger is always just going to be what it is to people.