Anger into pain

Anger. Anger by definition means a strong feeling of displeasure and belligerence aroused by a wrong. However, anger is a secondary emotion. Because as angry as she was, Amber realized she was truly just sad and hurt. She is sad that she’s has allowed certain things to happen to her, and she is hurt that she has held expectations for people that they can’t live by. Maybe she just needs to come to terms with the fact that people are disappointing. “I genuinely feel like I can’t rely on people,” she said as she stood up in her anger management class. Her counselor responded with, “And what about that hurts you the most?” Amber paused for a moment. Because really, she hadn’t thought about that. “I guess, if you feel you can’t rely on people, then you never will. Then maybe you’re just alone.” She spoke reluctantly.

The counselor thanked her for sharing. She sat down and pondered the statement she just said. Amber realized the severity of speaking on what’s really been going through her mind. She sat there and listened to more stories of disappoint and why the other people in her anger management class are so angry and hate life. It’s sort of depressing to hear and to know all the suffering around her. This was court ordered and supposed to help her understand why she was so angry, but all it did was give her extreme anxiety. As she walked out of class fifteen minutes later, her words rang loud in her head. She wondered how does that make sense. That in reality we’re all alone and we’re just fighting not to be alone. Is that what human existence is? What is the purpose of that? She took the Yellow line home to her flat in Alexandria the thought surrounded her head the duration of the ride.

The metro was dreary after eight pm. It was a lot of dull overworked individuals who seemed two more overworked days of jumping in front of a bus. Amber was still unfazed by this, even though she seemed unsatisfied, she still felt a sense of peace. Maybe because she was good at hiding or it was that she didn’t let anyone disturb it. Being alone wasn’t so bad. She had her books, her Netflix, and her stories. Her stories were the only thing that made her feel unstoppable. Being alone was easier than having extreme trust issues or gaining someone in your life that was just not ready for you. One of you is probably self-sabotaging. Amber was proud to say she was in her right, mentally at bay. She was in love once, or at least she thought it was real love. She reflected for a while trying to lose sight of the triggering memories that played out in her head. Amber casually walked inside of her fourth floor flat and sat right on the couch. The idea of cooking this evening didn’t appease her. “Ramen it is,” she muttered to herself. Amber had the itch this evening to write. The thought of her being scared of being alone even a little scared infuriated her. I guess maybe humans aren’t supposed to be alone. It’s natural to want love and acceptance. She had to get it out of her head, because even though she didn’t want to keep entertaining the thought. The reasoning escaped her. “Why am I scared of being alone?” The world definitely has its down sides, so maybe having someone to share that with would be nice and I guess sharing the good things are also reasons as well.

Amber was an only child whose parents died in a car crash while she was away at college. So, she had been alone for about 4 years. So certainly, she felt that she was doing it all by herself. When she felt overwhelmed, she’d call her best friend Solo. Solo was a film director following her dreams in Los Angeles, and doing a great job at it. Amber really admired her for her ambitous spirit. So when she felt on edge or like she really needed someone to talk too, she'd always have her to rely on.

Amber just wasn’t ready to give herself to anyone. But who deserves that of you anyway? I don’t think anyone deserves that of me. Amber snatches her laptop off the bed and walks back to the couch. She sits down and opens up a word document. Amber stared at the blank white screen for 30 minutes. She just couldn’t deal with what may come. She knew if she was going to ramble and not make any sense because what was going on in her head wasnt making any damn sense. She felt an anxiety attack coming. Amber threw the laptop on the other side of the couch, sat down on the floor crisscross apple sauce and immediately started humming.

Amber definitely wished she could for a second get out of her head. That’s why people get lonely because they can’t seem to get out of their own mind. After fifteen minutes went by, she slowly got up and made some mint tea. The meditation and smell of tea gave Amber relief. She grabbed the laptop once more. Amber started blindly writing because at least she could focus on that than what she really did not want to focus on. She wrote about the boy in her office, and yes, she meant boy, because he was three years younger than her, and quite childish. But he did however, make her laugh at her boring office. Sometimes that counts for something. When her mind wondered after an immature conversation with him. She fantasized about what it would be like being in a relationship again. And not just any relationship being really in love with someone.

Maybe that’s what she needed. Amber froze for a second. She stared at the white wall with nicks in it from the paintings she tore off when she had her episode last week. The word “jaded” pushed its way out of her lips. She sighed. Amber knew she was just torn. Because the pain she’d endured made her feel like she could never trust or let her guard down again. “I’m worn out,” she typed. I’d rather be alone than feel like I am not enough. Id rather be alone than to crave love from someone who just doesn’t love themselves. Being alone isn’t so bad. Amber wondered if she was broken. Yet she already knew the answer was yes. “I feel like I am not healing the way I need too.” She typed. Like she was still stuck on what broke her. Honestly, she didn’t know what exactly broke her. Her parent’s death, her toxic ex, or maybe something before all those things. It’s hard to escape those memories of trauma and even harder to heal from them. This was the stuff that made Amber want to sleep. Or just flat out scream her head off. Because when you’re a child, adults don’t tell you that life is suffering. And they damn sure don’t tell you how to deal with the suffering.