Fear and anger, anger and fear...

I read this article that has been ... well ... bothering me.  It is about marriage.  Of course, I am not married.  So, why?  No. 3.  I cannot stop thinking about No. 3.

3. You can't handle pain or anger. No, this does not mean that you explode in anger every two minutes. This could very well mean you pretend to never get angry in an effort to avoid confrontations. You cannot be fully honest about how you feel because you don't want to be the bearer of bad news.

The idea of pain is overwhelming, and it is something you avoid because it is "bad." You always wait until you cool off, which takes about six months and by then you don't even remember what happened. It must not have been that important.

The idea of anger makes you angry at yourself for even thinking it, because you believe you should never feel angry. When your spouse gets angry, you feel a lot of pain and you work hard to get rid of the pain. Instead of dealing with your hyper-sensitivities, you pretend to not be angry, give silent treatments and fake orgasms, or better yet, you fake headaches to avoid sex altogether. If you are more concerned with keeping the peace than you are with making peace, you are probably driving your spouse to divorce.

I am not sure if I can explain this.  For one, because not feeling anger is one of my problems.  Not feeling, dissociating not only from an experience but also from the feelings of the experience, is something I am struggling to unlearn.  There are a couple of points in here, though, that bother me:

• You cannot be fully honest about how you feel because you don't want to be the bearer of bad news.
• The idea of pain is overwhelming, and it is something you avoid because it is "bad." 
• The idea of anger makes you angry at yourself for even thinking it, because you believe you should never feel angry. 

Yesterday, my realtor came over with food from Taco Bell.  Only, it was not what I normally eat.  Even after the debacle, the misery, of the "new" food from McDonald's, I could not bring myself to tell her that I should not eat the "new" item.  Instead, I ate it.  And I have been unbelievably, incredibly, horribly ill ever since.  Not the few hours of misery, but ... again ... going on a second day of misery with no end in sight.  SIGH.

I was afraid. I was afraid to hurt her feelings by refusing her offer of food. I was afraid that I would offend her by appearing to criticize her act of mercy.  I was afraid she would be angry with me.

My fear shadows so much of my life.  Even to the point of keeping me from doing what I good, right, and salutary for myself. 

I would add another statement to this list, though.  Were I the author, there would also be:  I don't believe I am worth the anger.  What exactly I mean by this is difficult to explain.  I suppose it is made up of all these little bits, all these thoughts that sum to that notion, that belief.  To speak up for myself is selfish.  To choose my needs is selfish.  To say "no" or refuse is rude.  To choose elsewise is selfish and rude.  My discomfort doesn't matter, isn't important.  Those things ... and more.

I am Yours, Lord.  Save me!