![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Damn me for being honest.
My work was going to send me to LA the weekend of March 15 for a trade show. It was the consolation prize because no one gets any raises until the union contract goes through. Then I hear that my cousin is getting married in, of all places, LA, on March 15. This should be good, right? Skip out on the trade show for a little while, go to a wedding (traditional Chinese wedding, I'm told--I've never been to one). Wrong. No, I had to open my mouth and say something. No more trade show, no more free cross-country flight. And there ain't no such thing as a cheap flight these days.
I'd like to say it's the straw that broke the camel's back but I'm still too messed up right now to go out and get another job. I couldn't even get out of bed today. I'd go back on the meds but I wasn't any better off on the meds; just numb instead of angry. And it's scary being angry. It's not out-of-control, it's not like my Dad's anger where he couldn't stop himself, it's not like the anger I felt when I wanted to kill the s.o.b. who killed Rachel--but I'm terrified of what I could do, so I haven't let myself feel anger for years. I have this sense memory of losing control, of going at the bastard with a knife, and I know it wasn't real, it wasn't a knife in my hand and it wasn't Him I was going for, those were in my head, and thank God my dad could put me in a hold before I hurt myself or him, but I wanted to kill the man who killed my family, I wanted to kill him so bad. Me and him, we're similar in that; we both have that potential. I don't know whether everyone has it in them to kill. I certainly don't have it in me to kill anyone except him, and I don't have that rage for him anymore, not when I saw it could have hurt my dad. I worked through just enough of it to be able to stuff the rest down, and I've spent half my life doing just that. I was thirteen when he killed her.
So being angry's scary. I don't think I'll lose control, at least I don't think so intellectually... strike that, I'm absolutely fucking terrified that I will lose control, even though it's not really a possibility. I see anger as this bomb that's going to go off if I let even a little of the pressure out. And walking around as a ticking time bomb, now that the medicated numbness has worn off, even if I know that no one's gonna get hurt; that's no joyride.
So yeah, I guess I'm a bit ticked off at my job, at me, at my friends and family and life. So far, no blood's been shed. And I know myself well enough to know that no real blood ever will. I may know I have it in me to kill, but what separates me and him is that I won't. I'm not a danger to myself and others; I know that. I just haven't entirely convinced myself of that yet.
My work was going to send me to LA the weekend of March 15 for a trade show. It was the consolation prize because no one gets any raises until the union contract goes through. Then I hear that my cousin is getting married in, of all places, LA, on March 15. This should be good, right? Skip out on the trade show for a little while, go to a wedding (traditional Chinese wedding, I'm told--I've never been to one). Wrong. No, I had to open my mouth and say something. No more trade show, no more free cross-country flight. And there ain't no such thing as a cheap flight these days.
I'd like to say it's the straw that broke the camel's back but I'm still too messed up right now to go out and get another job. I couldn't even get out of bed today. I'd go back on the meds but I wasn't any better off on the meds; just numb instead of angry. And it's scary being angry. It's not out-of-control, it's not like my Dad's anger where he couldn't stop himself, it's not like the anger I felt when I wanted to kill the s.o.b. who killed Rachel--but I'm terrified of what I could do, so I haven't let myself feel anger for years. I have this sense memory of losing control, of going at the bastard with a knife, and I know it wasn't real, it wasn't a knife in my hand and it wasn't Him I was going for, those were in my head, and thank God my dad could put me in a hold before I hurt myself or him, but I wanted to kill the man who killed my family, I wanted to kill him so bad. Me and him, we're similar in that; we both have that potential. I don't know whether everyone has it in them to kill. I certainly don't have it in me to kill anyone except him, and I don't have that rage for him anymore, not when I saw it could have hurt my dad. I worked through just enough of it to be able to stuff the rest down, and I've spent half my life doing just that. I was thirteen when he killed her.
So being angry's scary. I don't think I'll lose control, at least I don't think so intellectually... strike that, I'm absolutely fucking terrified that I will lose control, even though it's not really a possibility. I see anger as this bomb that's going to go off if I let even a little of the pressure out. And walking around as a ticking time bomb, now that the medicated numbness has worn off, even if I know that no one's gonna get hurt; that's no joyride.
So yeah, I guess I'm a bit ticked off at my job, at me, at my friends and family and life. So far, no blood's been shed. And I know myself well enough to know that no real blood ever will. I may know I have it in me to kill, but what separates me and him is that I won't. I'm not a danger to myself and others; I know that. I just haven't entirely convinced myself of that yet.
