flames, flames on the side of my head

don’t read this if you don’t want to have your opinion of me fundamentally changed. i’m about to spew venomous frustration, and if you’re not ready to handle that, go read one of my warm and fuzzy entries.

i am mad.

really mad.

it’s actually pretty rare that i get mad. you know, the kind of mad that sort of churns in the bottom of your stomach and makes you react before you think. i get annoyed a lot, but that’s momentary. it leaves pretty quickly. but to get angry? it doesn’t happen very often, but when it happens, it comes on fast and pretty powerfully.

i am freaking tired of being nice.

i am freaking tired of being kind.

i am freaking tired of putting myself out there, time after time, and getting jack back for it.

i am FREAKING tired of being passive-aggressive. sometimes i’d like to feel welcome to be aggressive-aggressive. i don’t have the guts to do it. that, too, makes me mad.

i just go off to the corner to lick my wounds, all content with my righteousness and that i rose above the temptation to be the lesser person. i sit there in the corner, wanting people to read my mind and realize that i am unhappy and come seek me out. i am martyr carrie in the corner, suffering in silence.

screw that.

what makes me madder? that the churning anger lasts for like three minutes, and then i cry like the girl that i am. because, really, i just get angry when i get hurt. like a snapping turtle. but the snap doesn’t last very long, and that makes me mad. because if i still had my tough outer shell, i’d be fine.

funny. i didn’t even mean to continue the metaphor, but i did anyways. can’t escape the englishness even when i’m just spewing.

as i’m writing this, i’m hearing all of the really rational things that answer these kinds of things in my head. you know, that i really do aspire to be kind. that i really do want to serve. that it’s all worth it in the end. that i’m getting rewards and blessings that i don’t even recognize.

and then the guilt sets in, for the reactions and for the thoughts that somehow being the bigger person is the bad option.

now i just feel bad. am i not allowed to be mad? am i not allowed to feel shafted a little? am i not allowed to indulge myself in just a few minutes of raging fiery irrational female anger?


2 Responses to “flames, flames on the side of my head”

  1. I’m pretty sure we’re allowed to feel shafted. If not, I’m in some big trouble come the end of things.

    if I said this didn’t change my opinion of you, don’t take that as me having always seen you as nothing more than a spewer of venomous frustration. :o)

    also. what do you do after institute? if the answer is nothing or you would want it to be nothing and are looking for an excuse to not do something, feel free to come over and have food. I’m going to make chicken and rice and corn on the cob and see if ana and becca maybe want to come over. if you’re busy, I won’t be too terribly offended. I’m pretty stingy with my corn on the cob anyways.

    in my personal opinion in case it was not already apparent, I think that at the very least people should be able to rant all they’d like in their personal blogs. better venting the crap out of a blog than a small fuzzy animal right?


    see you tomorrow.

  2. Carrie, Drbolte, (whomever is in there)
    I understand your frustrations, both, the one about being the nice person all the time, and two feeling bad about feeling mad/sad/bad. It does get tiresome, always been the nice one, the strong one, the more mature one. How many times does it take us getting burned for us to ever stop. Why is it we always get the least consideration, least attention.

    Then feeling bad for feeling bad. It’s like we’lre not allow to have those feelings. I feel i like i’m being judge for having non-positive feelings all the time. It’s like not matter what I’m mad or angry over, it’ the fact that I let it get me mad or angry.

    Slient Scream.. SIgh

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