You won't like me when I'm angry

Anger has been on my mind recently.  I've come to the realization that a good part of my depression over the years (other than the genetic pre-disposition/brain chemistry part, THANKS PARENTS!) has been due to anger that I've turned on myself.

Societal norms don't leave a lot of room for human beings to express anger in a healthy way, but it's made particularly difficult and problematic for women.  Until a few months ago, I never really understood the extent to which I've been trained to suppress my feelings of anger, justified or not.  I was sitting in therapy, trying to suss out what had triggered a depressive episode, when my therapist hit the nail on the head: "Jackie, I don't think you are sad.  I actually think you are really angry."  It was a revelation.

Ever since I was a small child, I've known that anger is Very Bad.  Anger leads to shouting, and fighting, and people not liking you.  You are angry?  Well, that means you're mean, and loud, and you fight with people, and good girls aren't mean.  They aren't too loud.  They don't fight with people.  They are liked.

So whenever something happened that made me angry, I would twist the situation in my mind until it was all my fault:

"Another little girl tells me I'm a show-off because I sang well in the school play?  Well, I must seem too stuck up then; it's my fault.  It couldn't possibly be because she was jealous and wanted the part for herself!"

"A boy on the bus calls me a loser and spits in my face?  Well, I must be ugly and nerdy and unlikeable.  It couldn't possibly be because he's a mini-misogynist and a sociopath who picks on every girl in the class because he enjoys hurting them."

"My 10th grade biology teacher leers at me and laughs while my male classmates make fun of my large breasts?  My shirt must be too low-cut; I should wear something with a higher neckline.  It couldn't possibly be because he's a predatory creep who shouldn't be within 500 feet of a school, much less teaching high schoolers."

When you're trained to outwardly express and feel anything but anger, these convoluted justifications for other people's inexcusable or inappropriate behavior become automatic.  They supplant reason and make it impossible for you to view a situation rationally.  And they direct anger inward, where it wreaks havoc while bubbling like lava just beneath the surface of your consciousness--until it inevitably explodes.

I've had several explosions over the years, and they were bad.  One in high school made me some enemies and pretty much ruined my senior year of high school.  Instead of reacting appropriately to individual situations that inspired justifiable anger in me, I kept it all inside until one last, tiny, insignificant straw landed on the camel's back and the camel blew up and screamed at fucking everybody.  That was a bad day--what I remember of it, at least.  My mind has blocked out a lot of it, the fallout was that traumatic at the time.

Much worse, however, have been the much more frequent implosions: the times where the anger burned bright hot and bored a giant black hole in my head and my heart, a hole I tumbled into and couldn't climb out of for days or weeks or months.  When things imploded, I wanted to hurt myself and I thought about ways to make it happen.  I realize now that the Big Breakdown in 2013 was really all about anger, mostly directed at people in my job who were taking advantage of me at the time.  Instead of telling them how I felt and using my anger as a tool to defend myself from their tactics or at least call them out for bad behavior, I blamed and hated and raged at myself for everything that was going wrong and then fell apart.

Now I'm working on expressing anger in a healthy way.  If I need to scream or throw (soft!) things in my apartment at night, I do it.  At work, I try to channel anger into actually, for the first time in my life, telling people when what they are doing is inappropriate, rude, or simply mean.  This has been especially hard because most of the people at work I push back on have 10 years of experience on me and think a lot of themselves (sometimes justifiably, sometimes not).  But I'm learning, and it's actually making me even better at my job--an unexpected and pleasantly surprising bonus.

This week has been interesting, because there is simply a lot of shit going on in the world that is pissing me (and most people with a modicum of common sense and human decency) off.  This whole HobbyLobby business has cast a pall over the week since Monday.   Yet another blow by a bunch old white dudes to the dignity, health, and autonomy of women in this country.  And, just like when I was a child, I hear the same old message loud and clear from all sides: "Women: don't get angry don't get angry PLEASE DON'T GET ANGRY.  Not only does it make us SUPER UNCOMFORTABLE, it also means you're a Shrill, Hysterical, Very Bad and Mean Feminist (TM, Fox News).  No one will like you if you're angry."

Here's the thing - some people won't like me (or any woman, really) when I'm angry, and I'm finally getting that this is good because anger is necessary, and if they see that I'm angry then I'm going in the right direction.  Anger gets things done.  Directed at the right targets, anger can be a powerful tool for change, both on a personal level and on a broad scale.  Harnessing my anger has made me better at what I'm currently paid to do, and it's helping me understand and fight my depression.  Harnessing anger has fought injustice and ended atrocities around the world.  Harnessing anger of millions of minorities and their allies is what will fuel the ongoing fight to stop nutjobs and bigots from trying to take the world back to the Middle Ages.  It's also what will ultimately win that fight.  GO SHRILL, HYSTERICAL, VERY BAD AND MEAN FEMINISTSTM!!!!!!!

So, yeah, some people may not like me when I'm angry, but that's cool.  It worked for the Hulk, right?

WARNING WARNING RANT IMMINENT

So, it's hot out and the thunder outside is thundering its ass off, and my stomach hurts, and I decided to have a drink anyways hoping it might help my stomach - which was just so not a good idea - so I figured it was a good a time as any for a RIDICULOUSLY ANGRY RANT.

The basis for my rant is as follows: the world is generally shitty for women and it sucks hairy balls. Some cases in point(s?):

Companies that sell expensively disheveled clothes to hipsters think that a board of directors that is all white and all male is not indicative of a diversity problem. Or, you know, not even just a generally shitty idea when you're selling clothes to HIPSTERS.

A prominent FEMALE doctor thinks women should "think twice" before becoming doctors, because they are selfish bitches who dare to ask for time off to give birth and go to the occasional PTA meeting.

This bullshit. Don't even get me started.

Also, I read this book, Unnatural Selection, a couple weeks ago and it's been depressing me ever since. Basically, its premise is that the third world is extra-fucked (or not, depending on who you are) because there is a dearth of women due to sex-selective abortion and female infanticide that will increase violence and bride-buying and forced prostitution in some of the world's most volatile regions. GREAT.

So basically, here's where we are: it's 2011. We had a viable female candidate for the presidency of the United States, women are graduating from college in record numbers, women make up the majority of the Western workforce, and yet we are still fucked. It doesn't seem to matter, honestly, how much we succeed, we're always fucked up the ass. We learn science and go to school and become doctors? We're betraying the profession because we expect maternity leave so we can, you know, perpetuate the species. We go into business and sales and move up the ranks? We have to prove, once we reach a certain (read: childbearing) age that we are still serious about our jobs and haven't deteriorated into fat, soft, simpering baby-making machines. We run for President? We have to justify our damned pantsuits (THEY. ARE. FUCKING. PRACTICAL. OK?) and the fact that our husbands were fucking, well, everyone behind our backs because this somehow reflects badly on us. We're too pretty?, Well, then we must be dumb and can't be taken seriously. We're not pretty enough? Well, then, we should just fucking kill ourselves, I guess because we're not worth the space we take up on the planet unless guys want to fuck us.

I know that my grand total of three readers will most likely agree with me as I believe they are all women and gay men (I don't actually include my mother in this because she will object to the amount of swear words in the post), but I just want to say for the internet to hear that the belief that women are no longer second-class citizens, even in the U.S., is a bald-faced lie. And it really pisses me off because, at this moment in time, I really can't see how to fix it. Sigh. The end.

XOXO!