Childhood Rage Scarier Than Abuse?

[Chava]

My mom was a CSA victim but totally in raging denial (said it was no big deal). She never hit in a way that left me bloodied and scarred but she could smack fast enough to leave welts, broke a door against my back (and a chair, but this memory is really confusing at the moment) and involved my pathetic and passive dad in using switches and belts so she didn't have to do everything herself. He should have been the one to get her away from us when she was like that, but he was too afraid of her (so honestly, I resent him more than her).

Maybe I'm forgetting some other stuff (and certainly early childhood was shit but I'll never remember in a normal way). But my worst feelings and fear were around her anger, not actually being hurt....like watching what she did in efforts to not hit anyone...foaming-at-the-mouth-screaming, throwing things, breaking things, breaking a glass in her hand, breaking a lighter in her hand (that was a really freak WTF moment to watch). And all the life sucked out of me when this horrid rage, which was her deal, was being directed or vomited onto me. As a kid I had no conception of her rage coming from somewhere else or being about her and not me (also think she was extremely activated and/or dissociated at times). I just wanted to disappear or die. Understanding stuff like this now slowly helps me change some messages, but the disappearing is very stubborn. I don't enjoy being close to people. I don't relate to relationships being comforting or whatever. It's exhausting. My body is painfully tense and on guard even around people I supposedly know somewhat and like.

I think the screaming and the way her eyes looked out as if I did not exist (and yet I was the target), and watch what she did when she didn't hurt anyone, and have to be very still and as close to non-existent as possible (trying to run away led to physical attack, whereas being still and letting her rage was physically safer)...this was the shit part. I think running away more often and risking direct attack would have felt less life-sucking. I did actually run away in my teens...but by that time it was because my self-destruction was pissing her off and I didn't want her to be upset. I was so ashamed of being such a f*ck up.

Not totally sure what my point is. This is more diary-like but I still don't want a diary. But maybe others relate to anger/rage being scarier than getting it physically. Also, I don't tolerate anger in myself well. Not slicing myself up anymore, but I keep my range of feelings pretty controlled or safely contained within my physical pain. Anger connected to some of this, including some stuff I don't remember well enough to explain, has no where to go because I could never direct it anywhere for so many years. Now I just imagine setting myself on fire to be free. I won't, no worries, but the image helps...it's like I can access and admit to the intensity of my own rage without actually hurting myself. But mostly I don't feel anything except for physical pain and that usually feels safe, if within a somewhat controlled range...which also relates to my point, but I'm missing the connection in my head right now. Maybe later.

 

[Friday]

I don't like the unknown. I don't like surprises. I don't like limbo. I don't like waiting.

No matter how bad a thing is? I prefer that to waiting for it. Because then, at least, I know.

 

[Chava]

I don't like limbo. I don't like waiting.

Yes...like "which layer of hell are we going to tonight?"

 

[illusionist]

Yes...I think the anticipation to what is coming is worse, in a sense. I remember the fear as the rage built up...you knew it was coming, just not exactly when. Rages could last any amount of time. I think that's why I'm so good at reading body language, I would read that as a way of trying to judge.
I'm the same with anger, I don't experience it like other people... the most I allow to feel is frustration and that's turned into myself. I've only recently remembered that I was angry....livid as a kid, but only in the written word, I never showed it, or felt it towards anything other than a piece of paper and pencil. I would do it by mirror writing....unsure If I did this out of fear of being found out, or if it was just a case of mirror writing being more natural to me.....could well be both, as I seem to fear allowing myself to feel it and show it.

 

[Chava]

Come to think of it, I have quite a bit of irritability I feel fine expressing sideways around people who accept me somewhat. But it's always idiotic, like I'm using the "F" word to describe the stupid design of a coffee cup or something...like I'm really pissed off about it. And I am, but the level of irritability is probably disproportionate...another reason I'm not a super fun friend. But this is hard to recognize since my siblings are the same way...we all bitch about meaningless things. When I try to contain this and be more socially graceful, I find I just feel more depressed.

 

[illusionist]

Chava....I think it's human nature to bitch about meaningless things. That's one of the reasons why I don't mix with many people as I can't stand it ( no disrespect to you, or anyone else)..I don't understand it, it's unimportant in my eyes, but I know that I'm not normal in that sense, and many other things for that matter haha....saying that though, things that I do feel strongly about I make it very clear what I think...I've been told my tone changes, enough not to want to argue with me, yet I feel perfectly calm.

 

[Mammo]

Hi Chava,

Can totally relate to the "rage" and "anger" being more frightening that actual physical acts...imagination of what could happen is always worse, as there are no limits.

What used to frighten me the most what the sound of my dad screaming; the tone in his voice; the look in his eyes when he'd totally lost it and was literally looking for the next person to scream at. He wasn't *that* physically bad, but the level of anger that would come out of him, over entirely trivial things was pretty full on.

Below is an example, from when I was about 13.

"(On having a tidy bedroom)
My brother is in trouble for something, but I can’t remember what. I’m in my room, sat at my desk doing my homework. The shouting is getting louder. I turn my head to see my brother running up the stairs as fast as he can, followed by my Dad. He’s chasing my 12-year-old brother up the stairs hitting him with his belt as he goes.
I close my bedroom door. I’m scanning my bedroom, is it tidy? Is everything put away? Is there anything out of place?
I’m ashamed to admit, part of me was ‘relieved’ almost glad in a sense, that it wasn’t me he was screaming at, that it was someone else. Even though, that ‘someone’ was my little brother. Part of me wanted to go in there, and shout at him to Stop. Just Stop. But I know it’s pointless, and would only make things a thousand times worse.
I go back to my desk. My heart is pounding. I can still hear the screaming coming from my brothers’ room. I sit there, trying hard to concentrate, to pay attention and carry on with my homework – which is difficult, because my hands are shaking and I can’t write, and the stupid tears in my eyes mean the page looks all blurry. But I need to be seen to be doing my homework.
Dad finally finishes with my brother. He comes down the stairs from his room. I can hear his breathing from down the hallway. He’s so wound up; he’s looking for a fight. The door bursts open, and there’s a loud clanging sound from the metal wind-chime that’s on my door handle. My makeshift ‘alarm’ has gone off.
“What are YOU doing?!”
“My homework.” (Ha! – Argue with that!).
He starts stalking around my room, all the different areas. It’s tidy, so there’s one excuse gone. He actually seems angry and disappointed that he can’t find a reason to scream at me also.
He stomps out and down the stairs. I am relieved. I start to breathe again, realizing I had been holding my breath."

 

[illusionist]

Mammoth....I can so relate to that....perfect example of what Chava means.

 

[fellowsufferer]

@Chava i also can so relate to the rage being the the thing that scared me the most. My mother had this sudden rages directed against me. The most scary thing about it, is that they came out of the blue, there was nothing i could do to prevent that, as she relentess raged against me. I can see know she dissociated during the event, as she looked right trough me with a weird gaze. I think the most profound effect on me: i avoid conflict, because i'm scared of rage. I have difficulty recognising and expressing my own rage. Also my constant state of hyperarrousal, no trust in life and hoplessness are the consequences of those childhood experiences, i find those the most difficult to deal with!

 

[Melody coates]

omg i can relate! my mother's rage was terrifying to me. the smallest things would trigger it too.

 

[ihateusernames]

I feel the same. The unpredictable rage and contempt and disgust and hatred... was far worse than being hit out of the blue, or knocked down or thrown into the closet or against the door or half strangled. As fun as all that was, it only lasted moments. The other would creep up over the course of the day, blowing up at random, lasting for what seemed like ages, and you always think that maybe there's some magic word or sequence of things that you can do to thwart it. Like @Mammo tidying her bedroom, maybe you can avoid setting it off. But you can't no matter what you do. The dread and waiting for the inevitable when you have no control over it was always far worse for me. And like @fellowsufferer I think that's the thing that has had the biggest impact in my life. I avoid conflict and expressing my needs and wants and really, myself, for fear of that response. I read it into even the slightest disagreement. I cannot discuss or argue. I react with terror and my own anger at any hint of a negative interaction. Unfortunately I went in the opposite direction everybody else seems to have with my own anger. Anger is the only emotion I really allow myself and I get disproportionately angry and have been known to go into my own fits of uncontrollable rage. I absolutely hate it and it scares me.

 

[jaccat]

I get it. Rage is something you see in children, it's supposed to be 'worked out' of them as they grow up. When it isn't then it becomes dangerous. Uncontrollable rage in an adult can kill.

My mother was an angry woman, but she was always angry and, though I was terrified of her, it was predictable. My father, on the other hand, could be the sweetest guy in the world, but when he lost it- there was no control. Of all the experiences I had as a child the most terrifying were the ones where my dad 'switched'. Those times I feared for my life, even when he didn't lay a finger on me.