(The author needs to take a break…)
I CALLED RAHNE AFTER I WROTE THAT LAST ENTRY. I COULDN’T CRY. I COULD FEEL THE POWERS OF ANGER AND DESTRUCTION MOVING INSIDE ME. “THERE IS NO OTHER WAY OUT,” SASIFRAZ WOULD SAY. “YOU HAVE TO FEEL PAIN.”
“NO,” I’D SAY. “I CAN’T TOLERATE IT.” BUT, IT WOULD MOVE IN ON ME ANYWAY. IT WAS DARK. ALL THAT ANGER. SASIFRAZ LOVES DARKNESS. SO, I WENT OUTSIDE TO FEEL IT.
RAHNE CAME. I REALIZED I MADE A BIG MISTAKE—CONTAINING ME OUTSIDE WAS A WHOLE LOT HARDER THAN INSIDE.
“I WILL KILL YOU,” SASIFRAZ INTONED, “JUST GIVE ME A CHANCE…. IF I CAN’T KILL YOU, I CAN AT LEAST MAKE YOU WISH YOU WERE DEAD.”
* * * * * * *
IT LASTED FOUR DAYS AND FOUR NIGHTS. SOMETHING ABOUT THE RABBIT HURT ME SO MUCH I COULD THINK OF LITTLE ELSE.
I COULDN’T EAT. I COULDN’T READ. AND, THE CYCLE OF SASIFRAZ’S ANGRY VISITS WENT AROUND AND AROUND.
I COULDN’T HEAR MY LITTLE VOICE INSIDE SAYING WITH PASSION, “I LOVE YOU.” I COULD ONLY HEAR THAT FIERCE ANGER.
“MURDEROUS RAGE,” BJ AND I DUBBED IT. I BOUNCED BETWEEN THAT AND “TOTAL TERROR” LIKE A YO-YO.
* * * * * * *
I sat in BJ’s office angry and sullen. BJ wasn’t sure what I needed. Certainly, I didn’t know. Awash with anger over what had happened in the past, every ounce of my clarity had gone out the window. BJ asked me about my anger. There were no words. BJ wanted me to stay with her—not go so far into the feelings that I couldn’t hear or feel her. I gave it my best shot.
Finding words for feelings that have NO WORDS. Every time, I spoke it was as if I was breaking a commandment. While I was looking for words, a feeling would come over me. I would raise my fist—a sharp, jerking motion that ended with only a tightly clenched hand.
BJ commented on my fist wanting to know what happened to me when I did that. I said I didn’t know. I didn’t know. Although, I had been aware of doing it when I was really upset for several months.
A thin blade of fear struck down my body. The feeling would happen so fast. I would feel blinded by fear, push back against the wall, and raise my fist. I tried to slow the process down in my mind.
I’d feel a force coming at me, get thrown against the wall, and start to raise my fist to defend myself. I told BJ. Then, I realized that the fist was a knee jerk response to being attacked…by someone I was not allowed to defend myself against.
I felt sick inside. I knew it was true. With certainty, I knew it was true and equally there was surely more to follow. With that thought came Murderous Rage, and I was up moving around BJ’s office punching the wall through pillows.
Sasifraz exerted himself at that moment. I looked at the clock. The session was over. Murderous Rage at the ready, I was not leaving that building without cutting my arm.
* * * * * * *
At my request, my friends had been acting as caretakers for a couple days. I bought razor blades and just as quickly handed them over to my friends. One of my friends, Zhui, had even driven me to my appointment with BJ.
It was after hours with the building locked when my appointment was over. I quickly realized that Zhui was locked outside waiting for me. My attempts at responsibility with regard to arm cutting had just ended.
I bid a hasty farewell to BJ and made my way the few steps to the bathroom and safety. (Well, safety in a manner of speaking.) All I had was a pocket knife. I knew from previous experience many years before that pocket knives were less than adequate. But, I felt I must take what I could get—being so angry that fingernails would do.
The cuts certainly weren’t deep and hardly even bled. I tried repeatedly, but no amount of pushing made a satisfactory cut. Eventually, I gave up and sat thinking about what had happened and what might happen in the future. All that anger and no place to put it. I knew it would dim eventually. I wanted to remain out of mental hospitals until it did. I could imagine what future counseling sessions might entail.
Viewed from above, watching how certain acts at a young age had affected my entire life (at least to this point), I knew without question why the chicken crosses the road. Because, somebody put it on the wrong side to begin with.