But anger can also sustain a person who has precious little left in terms of self esteem. When I was in my teens, I decided to kill myself because no one loved me. I had no friends. The teachers were indifferent. The future was this big black blot, and I couldn’t see myself living in a world of ignorance and cruelty. There was supposedly a peer support group which was supposed to help out students that were having issues. Figuring if there was anyone who might listen to me, it would be them, I put a note in the locker to ask for help. And then I waited.
I waited all day, but it was late in the day when I put the note in the locker. I thought, maybe tomorrow they’ll come and talk to me. But they didn’t. So I decided that if they didn’t come and talk to me by Friday, I would kill myself over the weekend.
But a funny thing happened. When they didn’t come at talk to me by the end of the day Friday, I got angry. Really, super PO’d. I had a kind of epiphany. What was I letting these people do to me? Why was I letting them make me despondent and suicidal. Taking myself out of their lives would only be doing them a favor and why should I do any of them a favor? I decided to live to spite them. Maybe not the most auspicious reason to live, but it was anger at how I had been treated and neglected that saw me through my pain. If I hadn’t gotten angry, my bones might be lying at the bottom of the quarry right now, undiscovered and forgotten.
So anger, is not always a bad thing. Sometimes it’s the only thing that can elevate you above the influence of whatever abuse you’ve been letting slide off your back. True, it can give you a tremendous chip on your shoulder that’s hard to get rid of, but without it, you’re just a victim. I didn’t deserve to be bullied as badly as I was, or ignored by my family and teachers, or treated like a freak for being a nonconformist.
The truth is, I was better than the people who hurt me and I always knew it, but I kept waiting for people to see it without ever actually asserting it. It wasn’t until I was motivated by anger and a sense of entitlement that I stopped taking people’s abuse. While my anger did make me rather aggressive and prone to sudden outbursts and threats when people tried to be funny with me, after a while they avoided me and that was all to the good. Even if I still didn’t have their respect, at least I wasn’t being victimized any more. Better they should think I was a complete nutjob than an easy mark.
I no longer get as angry as I used to because I don’t internalize it as much as I did when I was a child. I don’t let it build up until I’m ready to kill myself or attack my abusers. Now when I get angry, it’s usually for someone else’s sake, like if I see someone abused in front of me or read or hear about something horrible that has happened to someone, especially a child. It makes me furious and hurts me so deeply I can’t even write a response to it when someone blogs about their experiences or posts a news article. I think that is why I write horror… so I can punish symbollically what I stop myself from doing to evil people in the real world. My anger is still useful for something…
In Romania, offerings were made to the Blajini, “kindly ones,” the hidden spirits of water and the underworld.
The Church of All Worlds was founded in 1972.

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