Fury + Fear = General Anxiety Disorder?

My Fury embodies the energy of Kali: Goddess of Rage and Resistance.

Fury is what I feel when I’m helpless. Plus fear is what I feel when my amygdala kicks in with the fight-or-flight reaction (FFR) and I can’t make it stop. Equals General Anxiety Disorder.

Looks pretty simple, but it isn’t. If I broke into rages instead of a panic attack, then my fury would be diagnosed and treated. The anxiety expressed in those rages would not be addressed. If I have panic attacks instead, because I’ve been victimized one too many times, only the anxiety would be treated.

Therapist: What are you afraid of?
Me: I don’t know. I’m safe, there is nothing to fear.
T: Then why do you think you have panic attacks?
M: Because that was the only way I could express my fury.

It leaked out of me 24/7. How do you treat that kind of fury? The helpless fury that must find an outlet or I’ll explode.

Most therapists are at a loss of how to treat fury-induced anxiety. They don’t consider the other emotions that are tightly woven into the panic response.

Especially for women. Women cry when they are frustrated and feel helpless. This feeds the angry fire.

I’ve learned to embrace my fury. I treat her like a long, lost child who has grown to a strong, even vicious woman. Anger is so destructive when it isn’t given a proper outlet.

For those of you with imagination, anthropomorphize the fury. What does the fury look like? What gender? What species? Build up this image in your mind.
When you know what your fury looks like, embrace it. Tell it you love it and that it is a part of the collective of you. You might have to do this a number of times before Fury trusts you enough to listen.

Once the Fury relaxes enough to have a conversation, you can hit these bullet points:
• I love you as a natural part of who I am as a person.
• I’ve neglected you and I’m sorry for that.
• I understand why you have sabotaged my efforts in the past.
• To show you how sorry I am, I’m asking you to turn your attention to what hinders us.
• Your destructive nature is necessary to sift the wheat from the chaff.
• Let us work together as a team to overcome any obstacles that come our way.

You may have to have this conversation with Fury a few times before it takes, but it will take. Fury will settle into your unconscious mind, where it has always resided, but now Fury has a new directive and will fulfill your request with a focus that is monumental in proportion.

After I did this, my whole life changed. The decisions I made when Fury was not acknowledged were cut and burned. Some of those decisions were salted as well. Fury doesn’t play.

Another role Fury can take is as a defender of the child you were, the child you must raise. This is anxiety. This is helplessness. Have Fury protect and care for this child. Fury was given to us for this purpose.

Many call Fury the Shadow, but this is only true if you deny its existence. Otherwise, it becomes a tool of the heart and mind. You’ll make better decisions. Toxic people will shed from your life. This will be true even if you have a mental illness. I think one of the reasons I survived so long with the illness was because I acknowledged all the icky parts of myself. Just know that Fury is the biggest “shadow” of them all and must be addressed first.

I am not a licensed therapist. I make no claims to having any experience other than my own. If the above practice resonates with you, you’ll have success. If it doesn’t I recommend that you not continue the matter and seek professional help.

Either way, if you are seeing a therapist, discuss the ramifications of a guided meditation. Remember that you are paying the therapist for their expertise and that you are the boss. You are the owner of all the feelings inside of you. If your therapist isn’t open to working with you on anger issues or just recommends prescriptions to the psychiatrist to deal with the anxiety, it’s time to find a new therapist.

Take charge of your journey to wellness. You are mighty, not helpless. Let your Fury become your guardian. Fury will tell you when something isn’t right. Fury will protect you.

©2018. I.O. Kirkwood. All rights reserved for text only. Image may be subject to copyright.

A Witness to Violence

abusedchild

I am multi-dimensional. I can be many at once or singular. Sometimes both simultaneously. I am a survivor of child abuse and I’ve escaped the cycle. You can too.

Marie-Claire

The shouting was always a bad sign. Though Marie-Claire wanted to hide in a closet somewhere, I forced us to stand our ground and watch the physical abuse unfold.

Our Middle Brother, the one most like us, had a smart mouth and a quick mind that operated under Occam’s Razor. He defied the injustice of Father’s oppression. Marie-Claire loved Middle Brother for his spunk but despaired of him surviving to puberty.

He provoked the beast inside of Father, a creature of rage, jealousy, and sublimated pain. It didn’t help that Father’s hangovers amplified his inner demons. Marie-Claire’s heart wept for Father and for the terrible dynamics that ate like a cancer at our family.

Middle Brother sailed through the air. He was a little thing. His trajectory was impressive and the moment had a horrifying slow-motion quality. His landing was a rack of bikes.

Middle Brother didn’t move. We watched Father as he left the room. We followed, but not to find Father. Instead, Marie Claire insisted we find a washcloth and take care of the gash on Middle Brother’s forehead.

As we wiped the blood from Middle Brother’s face, his first sight when he opened his eyes was our concerned face. His first sensation was our ministrations. Relief poured through us but we said nothing other than, “Are you okay?”

It was useless to chastise him. Middle Brother wouldn’t change. Sometimes we thought he wanted to die at Father’s hands.  Father confined behind bars and wearing orange was a satisfying fantasy that could very well come true.

Mori

The coward left the room as Middle Brother lay unconscious. I struggled with Mori as visions of stabbing Father again and again, his blood staining the carpet, gave me a thrill of terrified pleasure. We are too small, I said. Mori’s eyes glowed with rage. Father hurt what is ours. Left him to die. She paced inside the prison that contained our primal urges. He must sleep sometime.

Alicia

While I managed Mori’s darker urges, Alicia planned. I could feel the gears in our head rolling through multiple possibilities. Cold logic. Insatiable curiosity. She studied Mori’s visions of blood and hate, parsed the rage into tidy categories, and filed away every thought, every feeling. She planned, not Father’s death, but his ruin.

Regina

We could use this, Regina whispered. Tell Mother that he didn’t fall into the bikes. That Father threw him. I shook my head. That’s not how it works. Regina rolled her eyes and I could feel her calculation coil inside my head. Mori was a beast, but Regina was a viper. Little Brother witnessed it too.

I scoffed, but not outwardly. We’d been beaten at any sign of defiance. Little Brother hides. He doesn’t speak. Frustration twisted in our chest. We were helpless, too small to fight back, and too frightened to move out of harm’s way. Mother will call us a liar. Like she always does. She hates us.

Regina offered a Cheshire smile. She’s jealous. We’re more than she. Prettier, smarter, and more powerful. I didn’t agree because Regina boasted. She saw us as better than anyone else. Sometimes she leaked through and alienated potential allies, diminished them, and I felt terribly alone despite all the voices in my head.

~How you can stop child abuse: Education. Please click HERE to find out more. 

To report abuse: National Child Abuse Hotline: 1-800-422-4453

©2017 I.O. Kirkwood. All rights reserved.