So, first things first, this is how I deal with anger. I 100% know that I’m wrong, and I hope that none of you see this as an example to follow. What I do is still steeped in my old ways of depression. To explain, when I get angry I often lose control of myself and get very hurtful. I end up doing things that I regret severely the next day. So please please please DO NOT do what I do.

For those of you who don’t know, I am an alcoholic. It’s something that developed in college, mostly thanks to my depression. However it is also in part to the drinking culture for college students. The point I’m trying to make is, is when things get tough, I end up drinking. So, being that most of my habits and thought processes survived the ECT, so something that developed from my depression, while I’m trying to change it, my anger drinking is probably the hardest.

So! You’re probably wondering what got me so angry today that I stormed out of my house and went straight to the bar. Well, to get the full understanding, I recommend that you read my post about My Relationship With My Father . So, needless to say, it was my father that turned the flame on my proverbial tea kettle. About a week ago, maybe 2 by now, he texted my entire family stating that he was bringing a dumpster to our old house. Now to explain what that means, he fixed our old house up, because he won it in the divorce settlement. He also “allowed” us to continue to use the garage as storage. Well, he is bringing the dumpster to make us clean out the garage, with the threat of throwing everything we don’t take in the dumpster. Which automatically set my mother off, because she holds great sentimental value in junk that was passed down through her family. So, needless to say, my mother requests that we all (her children) visit the old house and take what we want. Well, to be completely honest, I didn’t want anything. I don’t hold sentimental value in things, I think it’s stupid. My mother refuses to understand this. “There are things there that are irreplaceable!” No mother, things are always replaceable, life is not. What she is holding onto is the parts of life that she associates with the things. I don’t do that, probably because I’m more familiar with death than she is. I know that if/when she reads that line, I’ll catch hell. So fast forward to yesterday, I wake up and she is gone, she took the dog and went up to the old house to sort through the trash that we didn’t need for 3 years, because suddenly we need it now.

So I see a text from her asking that we all (me and my siblings) stop by the old house to see if we want anything. Well surprise, surprise! I want nothing! But I head up there anyways, just because I love my mother, and I’m the only one who listens to a thing she says anymore. So I head up to the old house, and surprise! My father is there. My blood instantly boils, but I put on my old familiar fake smile, as I always do with my father, gave him a hug, and saw my mother “knee deep” in the garbage she values so much. Needless to say, I wanted to be anywhere but there. Yet, I was there for my mother, didn’t burn the house down for my mother, didn’t beat my father senseless for my mother. I held back my inner most desires, and was there, for my mother. I want nothing to do with my life before the treatment. Yet my mother keeps seeing it as an affront to her, that I am resisting her. In actuality, I am simply trying to break free from my old life.

So fast forwards to today. My father is demanding our prescience today at about 20 minutes ago. My mother wanted to load up old rug we ripped up from the basement, into my brothers minivan. I said I would help. But my brother insisted on cleaning the garage before doing anything else. Okay I decided that made sense, and that I’d help. After I move 1 thing, he yells at me that it doesn’t go there. That everything has a specific place, we are trying to maximize our space. He said that if I wasn’t going to move things the way he wanted, that I could just go do something else. So I snapped, instead of beating his little face into the concrete, I went back inside and sat on my bed. I fought every urge that I had to drink, and I said to myself that I’d go out and tell my brother that I was gonna move stuff, and if he didn’t like where I put it, he could go shove it. Of course he then comes in and startes talking to my mom, about how I didn’t help at all, I just made more work for him. So I said screw it, I’m just gonna unload my mom’s car and put the stuff wherever I damn well pleased. Of course my mother, who is never aware of my state of mind, or observant enough to tell for herself (I am hyper observant and I expect everyone to be able to tell someone’s emotions by the tone of their voice, and facial disposition…it’s not that hard to do.) but she starts screaming at me, that I never help her and that all she’s asking me to do is help. I told her that this is the first time I am refusing to help her in 3 years. So, as fueled up as I was, what do I do?! I go straight to my local bar, for dinner and of course to drink. I am not proud of myself, not one bit. I drink anyways though, because it’s the only way I know how to calm down.

So here I am, at the bar, typing this all out, having ate and had 3 beers so far (not a lot for me). Please please please, do not take what I do and think that it’s a good way to deal with anger. I haven’t figured out a better way so far, and so it’s just what I do. It’s how I’ve survived this long. I am open to suggestions however. Please comment below how you deal with anger, I hope that it helps me somewhat. I also hope that you read this and know how NOT to deal with your anger. From my mind straight to yours, this is Alan Wolfgang, signing off.