Once the dragon is stirred and you feel its claws thump and scratch at your chest, you go blind. It’s as if a veil of darkness quickly covers you and distorts your ability to think logically and rationally. It reminds me of the black groaning shadows from the movie “Ghost” that drag evil people away into the darkness. Or like dark dementors that quickly suck your life away. Only, this is way more sudden and scary.
And then you react. You either go silent, you brood, or you lash out. What happens to me, is that I immediately want to smoke a cigarette. I want to smoke a whole pack of cigarettes in one go. Whoever is with me, can’t calm me. No matter how hard they try. I lash out. Words, horrible, negative words spew from my mouth. I hurt. I blame. I insult. I curse. I hate. My whole body shakes. I want to break something. I want to tear at my face and hair. I want to die.
Once the damage is done and the other person is left broken, the guilt sinks in. Self deprecation. Self hatred. Shame. And ultimately, a dark empty hopelessness fills the copper bowl of your heart. You want to die.
That is exactly where I am now. A pit. And I feel like absolute shit. I feel so guilty for blowing up – yet again – over something so small. And I want to die… That’s probably hyperbolic. I don’t really want to die. But, I certainly feel sometimes that I deserve to. Or that death seems like a quiet and peaceful resolution for taming an angry and sad soul like mine.
Why am I so angry?
I keep on asking myself, Where does my anger come from? Why am I so fucking angry all the time? Why do I hate myself and feel so insignificant and powerless? Why am I so prone to getting angry, upset, defensive, and guilty all the time? I wonder if a list of all the things that make me angry or some recollections of past situations will help me find the root of this anger problem. I wonder…
Things that make me angry:
- Not being acknowledged
- Being ignored
- Feeling misunderstood
- Feeling as if I’ve been treated unfairly
- Being spoken to in a sarcastic and condescending tone of voice
- Being criticized
- Feeling overwhelmed and having too much to do
- Being called names or labelled
- Making a mistake
- Being prevented to do something I want to do
- Feeling stressed out and out of control
- Feeling controlled by someone else
- …
The list goes on and on… I can think of thousands of things that make me feel angry. But, that’s not what what I want to do. I want to recall more specific situations where anger was a very, very prominent experience in my life.
I think one of my oldest memories of experiencing intense anger was from my mother. I wasn’t angry in this situation. I think I was more shocked, or hurt. I remember, my family and I were living in our first house in Pretoria. The memory of that house is still vivid, but also blurry. I can remember only a few details. But, one thing was clear; it was a big double-story house made from brick with a large glass balcony looking out over the garden. We were a wealthy family.
I was the young one in the house. The little blonde, green-eyed boy. I was maybe 5 or 6 years old. I was shy and didn’t really like playing with too many friends. I hated big birthday parties. I wanted to be inconspicuous. I preferred to be alone. I liked drawing. I loved cartoons. And I loved listening to stories.
One day, I was playing outside in the garden by the brick playhouse my father built. The garden was very big. My mother was inside the house. She was studying for an exam. I think she was doing her Honors degree in education. She was on the second floor.
I can’t remember exactly what I was doing at the time. But, I started crying. I can’t remember why. Perhaps I hit my toe while playing. Perhaps I bumped or scratched a knee. I don’t know. But, I started crying very loudly. No one came to my rescue. I cried and wailed. No one came. Suddenly, I heard my mother shouting something from the glass balcony above me. I thought she was going to come down to see if I was okay. But, instead, she grabbed the small brown suitcase where I kept all my lego blocks and threw it out the window. The box crashed onto the lawn and all my lego bits flew all over the garden.
“Shut up!” she yelled.
I remember being shocked. I couldn’t believe my mother would do such a thing. I remember looking at all the toy blocks lying scattered on the grass. That’s all I remember. And I think this was the first time I witnessed someone getting really angry and losing control.
Diary of an Angry Artist 