anger.

a racing heart. deep breaths. clenched fists. nausea. and an overwhelming urge to destroy something- anything. left unchecked, it will spiral into an unbridled monster that consumes your every passing thought and moment.

that all too familiar feeling. hello, anxiety? no, my therapist said, “it’s not anxiety, it’s anger.”

i think there’s a thin line between anger and anxiety. the physical symptoms feel almost identical. and they both make you feel that perhaps numbness is better. perhaps feeling nothing at all is better. perhaps depression is better.

but one is directed at the past (something that has already happened) and the other at the future (a crippling fear that the past repeats itself). 

i always ask myself, though - what am i angry or anxious about? am i angry at the people who hurt me or the situations that drove me to the brink of insanity? am i anxious that similar things would happen and i might lose my mind one day? 

i don’t think so. 

i think my anger is directed at myself. for bearing the pain again, and again, and again until there was nothing left of me. for losing myself in the pursuit of something so fleeting. for not loving myself as i should have. 

and my anxiety is triggered by the fear that i’ll make the same mistakes again. that i’ll allow myself to become that unrecognisable person that i was once again. and that at the end of the day, it was because i brought it upon myself. 

no, never again.

all is vanity and a striving after wind. 

there are so many emotions to untangle. i should probably see my therapist soon.