Repressed anger towards people may have been fostered by your parents who behaved in violent, intimidating ways and your...
I was just thinking, another thing that I really hated was how when my mother and I would be in the car. She'd hit and yank at me. Scratching and pinching.. I hated how other people were right outside the window and wouldn't do anything. I remember staying emotionless and still as she pounding and messed with me. I wouldn't react to her, but I remember making eye contact to a few people outside the window and they'd just look away. No one ever said anything or helped me. There were very rare times she would physically do something to me out in public(when we're not in the car.) In a clothes store, sometimes she'll throw the clothes rack toward me and tell me to pick it up if no one was around, or she'll tightly squeeze my arm and drag me. I remember one time, I was probably in sixth grade.. she kicked the back of my knee and I almost fell because of it, we were surrounded by other people. My classmates, two teachers.. and no one said anything. It got silent, I turned toward her to see the same glare she gives me all the time and instead of being upset, I was embarrassed that she would do something like that in front of people. I didn't know how to react so I turned my back on her after and ignored her until she forced me to go outside where she hit me on the back so no one would see it.
I hated how the very few times I felt brace enough(or smart enough) to talk to someone about them, NO ONE believed me. No one ever listened to me. I told my teacher that my mom as hitting me. I was crying that day, I had a bruise on my arm. My mom is usually very careful about where she hits me. Usually high up on my shoulder where my sleeve covers my arm or she won't hit me hard enough to cause bruises on my arm. She'll hit my back, kick my stomach, but usually not on exposed areas. That day, she messed up and hit me a bit lower than the side of my shoulder so I wouldn't have to pull my sleeve up. I went in crying and telling my teacher that my mom hit me. I remember this so well. the teacher gentle rest her hand on my opposite shoulder, patted it and said, "Oh (insert name) your mother is a wonderful woman. I don't think she would ever hit you. I think you're over exaggerating. I think she just gave you a pat like that and you're upset that she's mad at you." then she told me something about how I could make it up to my mother after school. I also remember a fellow classmate mimicking my cries saying, "Awww my mommy hit me!" ..kids are cruel at that age. That was the last time I cried about it and the last time I attempted to get help. Last time it was against my will. People found out and it went so far that the police came to my place and even the police didn't believe me!
I was still in high school at the time. The school counselor saw a bruise near my neck on my back and asked how I got it. I told her that I ride horses and I was bucked off -- that it happens. Then a couple weeks later, I guess I couldn't handle stress from school and my parents, so I spent about an hour or two in the bathroom crying and panicking. I was having images in my head flashing and I felt like I was losing it. A teacher noticed and got other teachers as well as the school counselor to talk me out of the restroom and brought me to a room where I could be alone with the counselor. She asked if I wanted my parents to pick me up and I made the mistake of immediately refusing the idea. She put the pieces together and somehow managed the police to come and talk to my parents. But they didn't separate my and my parents in the beginning. She sat my parents and I in our dining room and confronted me. my parents, being the actors they are, were clueless and shocked about the accusation my school made against them. Everything made it seem like there was no point in fighting, so I ended up lying to the police just so they'd get off my back. They were causing me stress too. But that's not what really annoyed me. What I'm really upset and confused about is that one of the social workers came to speak with my parents alone and I overheard her saying, "Well, your daughter seems to good with her pet dog. Someone who was unstable.. or.. a monster, an animal wouldn't appear so comfortable with her." I couldn't believe that they were calling me the monster. Everyone was against me and I didn't meet my friend until a year later on. I just hated that I wouldn't even look at my parents for a second. If they were abusers wouldn't they at least THINK that "Oh. Well according to the file this person has been abused. Maybe her parents are very good at hiding it since statistically, abusers tend to be manipulative," but they didn't. Everyone was on the side of my parents and I hated it. Nobody would even take a look, they all fell into the hands of my parents and were being played like puppets. They were pathetic and couldn't see it, and I could.
