After the Anger
I've been posting here lately about my recent experiences with anger both in group therapy and in my "normal" life.
About 5 weeks ago, I had a tremendously powerful discharge of angry energy directed towards the members of my gay men's therapy group.
With the help and insight of my T, I can see how I had been feeling very much SHAMED by group members; one had told me that I was being 'childish' for being angry at another members absence; another member seemed to be warning a new guy that he should watch out for me because I might get angry at him if he were ever absent. This guy went on to leave the group, ostensibly because of me and my anger.
Basically I felt that I was being told in words and in actions that my emotions were out of line; that my feelings should be suppressed; that I should follow the old rules "Don't Feel" and "Don't Talk".
I really got triggered. The waves and ripples of that outburst continue to move outward. It has brought to the surface many othrer emotions, both in me and my fellow group members.
Once the anger dissipated, other more vulnerable, hurting type feelings began to loom large.
This is the point at which it seems to me that my depression, which had been improving, returned with a vengeance.
I have begun having thoughts of dying again. I lost all drive and motivation. I began experiencing insomnia and other sleeping problems. I generally began to feel hopeless.
Talking through this with me T, I began to see that underneath that anger was a still enormous reservoir of sadness and grief. Because of fear, because of shame I seem unable to access that pool of sorrow.
Part of the fear is that I am afraid that allowing myself to be that sad might be dangerous for me considering the death thoughts I have been having.
Part of it is still in response to the difficult consequences I have had to deal with since expressing my other strong emotion, anger.
I don't feel like I have a space big enough or love and support unconditional enough to start to let my sadness take it's course. I have grieved before. I have cried many, many times.
But I cannot cry now. I cannot allow myself that much comfort, that much letting go of control.
Crying has usually had a positive outcome for me in the past, but right now I simply can't allow myself to go there. I don't really know why.
I don't want to cry alone again. I've done that so much in my life. I don't want to cry in front of others because a part of me still feels that my over emotionality is what causes people, especially men, to leave me abandonned.
In short I feel frozen by my sadness unexpressed. Like I am carrying around a huge, cold burden that weakens me and makes me want to go to sleep to get away with it.
My T suggests that I seek a spot, a safe place big enough to feel enough love and support to be able to process some of this sadness.
He and I thought immediately of the weekend of recovery planned in November for survivors who were abused by clergy. That was the circumstance in which I was abused. I guess I have this hope that a concerted, concentrated, communal effort at healing might be what I need to break through this emotional ice dam.
Or maybe that's just wishful thinking. I am so tired of feeling this way, especially with all the meds and all the therapy and 12 steps and all.
I just found out today that I am now officially classified as disabled and will receive some money from the gov't so some distant point in the future.
That's good news; the bad news is that being ruled disabled is indicative of how desperate my financial situation has become.
I don't have the funds yet to go to Santa Barbara, nor the money for the retreat itself.
But today I forced myself to ask for help; now I'm going to force myself to start looking at transportation costs.
I'm making myself write about this here.
I am hoping for some sort of relief.
This depression is exhausting. My inability to feel what is inside me robs me of my source of energy.
I can't cry though I desperately feel like I need to.
I am sorry to go on and on like this. I'll quit now.
Thanks for reading,
About 5 weeks ago, I had a tremendously powerful discharge of angry energy directed towards the members of my gay men's therapy group.
With the help and insight of my T, I can see how I had been feeling very much SHAMED by group members; one had told me that I was being 'childish' for being angry at another members absence; another member seemed to be warning a new guy that he should watch out for me because I might get angry at him if he were ever absent. This guy went on to leave the group, ostensibly because of me and my anger.
Basically I felt that I was being told in words and in actions that my emotions were out of line; that my feelings should be suppressed; that I should follow the old rules "Don't Feel" and "Don't Talk".
I really got triggered. The waves and ripples of that outburst continue to move outward. It has brought to the surface many othrer emotions, both in me and my fellow group members.
Once the anger dissipated, other more vulnerable, hurting type feelings began to loom large.
This is the point at which it seems to me that my depression, which had been improving, returned with a vengeance.
I have begun having thoughts of dying again. I lost all drive and motivation. I began experiencing insomnia and other sleeping problems. I generally began to feel hopeless.
Talking through this with me T, I began to see that underneath that anger was a still enormous reservoir of sadness and grief. Because of fear, because of shame I seem unable to access that pool of sorrow.
Part of the fear is that I am afraid that allowing myself to be that sad might be dangerous for me considering the death thoughts I have been having.
Part of it is still in response to the difficult consequences I have had to deal with since expressing my other strong emotion, anger.
I don't feel like I have a space big enough or love and support unconditional enough to start to let my sadness take it's course. I have grieved before. I have cried many, many times.
But I cannot cry now. I cannot allow myself that much comfort, that much letting go of control.
Crying has usually had a positive outcome for me in the past, but right now I simply can't allow myself to go there. I don't really know why.
I don't want to cry alone again. I've done that so much in my life. I don't want to cry in front of others because a part of me still feels that my over emotionality is what causes people, especially men, to leave me abandonned.
In short I feel frozen by my sadness unexpressed. Like I am carrying around a huge, cold burden that weakens me and makes me want to go to sleep to get away with it.
My T suggests that I seek a spot, a safe place big enough to feel enough love and support to be able to process some of this sadness.
He and I thought immediately of the weekend of recovery planned in November for survivors who were abused by clergy. That was the circumstance in which I was abused. I guess I have this hope that a concerted, concentrated, communal effort at healing might be what I need to break through this emotional ice dam.
Or maybe that's just wishful thinking. I am so tired of feeling this way, especially with all the meds and all the therapy and 12 steps and all.
I just found out today that I am now officially classified as disabled and will receive some money from the gov't so some distant point in the future.
That's good news; the bad news is that being ruled disabled is indicative of how desperate my financial situation has become.
I don't have the funds yet to go to Santa Barbara, nor the money for the retreat itself.
But today I forced myself to ask for help; now I'm going to force myself to start looking at transportation costs.
I'm making myself write about this here.
I am hoping for some sort of relief.
This depression is exhausting. My inability to feel what is inside me robs me of my source of energy.
I can't cry though I desperately feel like I need to.
I am sorry to go on and on like this. I'll quit now.
Thanks for reading,