Let’s talk one more time about anger. I had my private lesson today, and I mentioned the argument with my mother that I recently had to my teacher. I was still upset with myself for letting it get as far as it did, but I totally did not see the trap in time. That’s what made me mad at myself, though. I’m usually really good at seeing the traps in time and neatly side-stepping them or jumping over them completely. Here’s my post on the subject from yesterday.
It’s been a lifelong study in patience when talking with my parents. I really hate when I lose my temper because what’s the point? In addition, I just don’t want to unleash it willy-nilly. I do believe in the power of anger, but I don’t want to let it run unleashed.
When I used to spend an inordinate amount of energy keeping it tamped down, it was so tiring. I was really afraid that if I let it out, it would just explode everywhere. It was self-defeating behavior, but understandable. My therapist at the time asked me what I thought would actually happen if I let it out. I didn’t know for sure, but I did know that it would destroy the whole world.
I knew I wasn’t important at all, but I also was made to feel by my parents that every little mistake I made was the end of the world. They had no sense of proportion, which is one reason I don’t either. Another reason is because of my broken neuroatypical brain.
When I was a teenager, I was a hot mess–and deeply miserable. My parents were very much into saving face and maknig sure that we never appeared ‘wrong’ from the outside . We weren’t supposed to hint at anything other than a perfect family. One example that was seared in my brain happened when I was a teenager. My parents were out playing tennis with a few of their church friends. Another of their church friends (a woman) called, wanting to speak to my father. I told her that he was out playing tennis.
When my parents returned, I told them their friend called and that I told her they were out playing tennis. My father got mad at me for that. He said I shouldn’t have said it because it was family business. I didn’t understand that. Why was it such a big deal that he was out playing tennis with his friends? He did elaborate that she might feel bad because she wasn’t invited, but that didn’t feel like the whole reason.
It wasn’t until many years later that I figured it out. My father had a series of affairs since I was very little. I don’t know when I realized it, but he always had at least one sidechick–from the very conservative and sexist Taiwanese church we belong to. Everyone knew about it, and I was amazed that he didn’t get his teeth punched in. I guess that wasn’t the Taiwanese/Christian way. Anyway, the woman they were playing tennis with was a longtime side chick of my father’s. The woman who called from him was probably an ex or a future sidechick. That made much more sense to me than any of my father’s explanations. Yes, he was a highly secretive man, but that wasn’t an explanation in and of itself.
I try to be as compassionate as I can, but there’s a coldness at the very core of my heart/soul that I can’t quite explain. I’ve always known it’s there, and I’ve always tried to make sure that it stays where it belongs. I’ve been ashamed of it and thought it was my failing for so long.