it starts in my head.
It starts in my head. It feels groggy and heavy. Then it seeps down into my stomach, making me feel sick. This will happen maybe two or three times a week. It’ll last until I sleep, but more often than not I’ll wake up with it, especially if I sleep during the day. It lingers for a while like an acid attack on my internal organs. It shakes my body, flushing between hot and cold from time to time. Mostly cold and I find solace in an oversized jumper or back in my bed, waiting for it to dissipate. It takes a while. It’s hard to pinpoint one thing that it is, but I guess, in short, it’s anger.
I’m not really an angry person, or rather to say, I don’t show a lot of anger, or any other emotion for that matter. It just weedles itself into my body like a parasite and lays its eggs of resentment, sadness and disgust, which makes up the majority of my anger. My head becomes a cavernous void of echoes screaming “what if?” and “how come?”. Nobody gets back to me so I’m left listening to the reverb of my original questions.
All questions and no answers makes me a pissed off girl.
On the outside, I’m the epitome of cool, calm and collected. It was the way I was raised. We don’t talk about our feelings. Our questions of “how’s your day?” and “you alright?” aren’t meant to be met with honesty. Just pick one of the pre-agreed stock phrases and we’ll be on our way. This has continued into my adulthood with little change - now I get to pick what the stock phrases are. I’m almost taken by surprise when someone responds with actual detail of their day when I say (because it’s not actually a question) “you alright?”. But I just chalk it up to people being really in love with their lives, or rather, themselves.
My stomach currently feels ill. My brain is foggy. There’s no definitive way to remedy these ailments. Of course if you speak to anybody who knows anything about the human psyche, which does seem to be just about everyone these days, they’ll tell you communication - talking - is the best remedy. But us humans are creatures of habit, so that is easier said than done.
My body is the calm, my brain is the storm. I ride it out because god forbid if I ever act upon my emotions.
People attach ideas to you and just go with it, friends and family alike. Family is one thing, because although I make a habit of keeping them at arm’s length of how I truly feel, there is still an idea that they know you somewhat better. Especially siblings. On the other hand, friends are relatively inflexible. The idea of yourself that you present to them in the first stages of your relationship defines who they think you are in complete. Some people go all in at once, leaving nothing to the imagination whilst others might hedge their bets, testing the water. Not for mystery’s sake but because they want to gage the relevance and longevity of this relationship. I am the latter. And then I’m pigeonholed. I am the cool, calm and collected exterior, solver of other people’s problems, burden sharer, shoulder, ear, sarcastic, obnoxious and questionably funny.
I am strong like ox.
Of course, I don’t blame other people for the way they perceive me or the lack of support I get from them. I induce both of these things - my resentment. I resent the fact that I’m not as open as my mind and body is screaming at me to be. I resent the fact that if I’m genuinely asked if I’m ok, I will say yes, even though I’m not. I resent the fact that these automated stock phrases are still the first thing pass my lips towards any question, about anything on any day, any person, any subject. Don’t worry, I don’t particularly resent myself. Perhaps resent is too harsh a word, but it’s what I feel so I guess it’s apt. I resent the fact that I minimise my feelings. Chalk it up to a bad day or a bad moment, always telling myself to get a grip. That stiff upper lip of not talking about our feelings creeps back into my psyche.
I switch on for a moment, like a robot, automated with my commands, call and response. Cool, or cold, exterior. Tears will rust the metal. But something’s not right. A malfunction. A glitch in the system. I’m broken because I’m not a robot. But we’re all broken to some degree, aren’t we? I guess this is where the sadness comes from.
I am not happy. I wouldn’t necessarily say I’m sad either, but I’m not happy. People expect you to be happy or excited or at least show some sort of emotion when things happen to people. At least the good things anyway. I may crack a smile every once in a while, but it quickly fades into my resting bitch face. I get moments of happiness. I mean, I understand moments of happiness. For me it usually comes in a group of people, socialising at work or out drinking. It’s easy to make a mask when there’s a group of you. Though, I would say I’m better one-on-one. In groups I linger on the outskirts, floating between people and conversations. Observing. I am a natural observer. I am a natural listener.
I am the quintessential Victorian child.
This part of my anger is a funny one. It doesn’t quite manifest itself so obviously as my resentment and disgust. I think it’s because it’s easy for me to feel those two things towards myself, yet sadness is something I have not quite yet come to grips with. It feels weaker than the others. Not weak as in less “there”, but physically. It makes me think I am weaker. I can deal with resentment and disgust, just about. They are motivators that push me out of my doldrum. Sadness has no benefit in my life. I have no need for it and it needs to just fuck off.
My disgust is similar to my resentment, but the latter stages of all those things I resent about my behaviour. I do not resent myself, but I can be disgusted with myself. The way I react to these resentments. I am disgusted by the fact that I do not listen to myself. I am disgusted that I need the attention to be asked two, three, maybe more, times before I may even just consider giving a genuine answer. I am disgusted by the way I cannot tell the truth about how I really feel. I am disgusted by my resentments. I am disgusted by my sadness. I am disgusted by my disgust. I am disgusted by my anger. I am selfish when I am like this. I am selfish with my negative emotions. I do not share. They are mine. I am greedy.
I am the cool, calm and collected.