This emotion has been extremely prominent in my grieving process. It’s an enveloping and consuming stage of grief. I was undoubtedly abusive, and probably still am in ways I can’t even see.
Anger combined with substances was incredibly dangerous for my loved ones and me.
Washed down with massive amounts of alcohol, I was eating my prescription pills for my anxiety and insomnia like candy. I spent my hungover days fighting down vodka, whiskey and wine. I’d tell my friends that all I needed was a little hair of the dog so I could eat (though I rarely ate). I often chased the spirits with wine. It was a good day if I could keep down 2 out of every 5 attempts while doing this.
I didn’t respect anyone or myself. Explosive fits of rage that were triggered by seemingly banal things were inflicted on my friends, family and ex. I fantasized about revenge every moment I was conscious, and spent a lot of time stabbing Loretta’s mattress that Blake and Victoria shared the month they lived on Cowie Hill Road. I was stewing in so much hatred and pain that I ultimately took out on those around me.
I called some talk show that was posing the question whether or not capital punishment should be brought back. I was drunk, angry and very much in favour of the death penalty. I smashed dishes for an entire day, kicked holes in walls and screamed at strangers asking if they wanted to kill me.
I wanted to die.
I cried while hovering over a knife and wanting to fall on it, piercing my heart. I let my tears fall over the ledge of a terrace, wanting to jump.
Anger and depression isolated me from everyone and everything. I lost friends due to my misdirected anger, and I didn’t particularly care because my best friend was actually dead.
I can still feel that rattling rage when I dwell on it too much, but I’m finally learning how to channel that rage into positive action and energy. I can’t really tell you how to do that, but I can tell you that it’s your choice to make that change and I hope you do.