"Everyone has their tribulations."

I can already tell, at least for right now, I am going to be a horrible blogger. I talk to myself all day long in my head, and by the time I decide to write a blog about what I am talking to myself about I think, But I've already had this discussion. But here's what has been in my head today, ready or not:

I have had depression and anxiety my whole life. It manifests itself in different ways and those ways often change from year to year. As a child I was intensely angry, and that nearly uncontrollable anger continued until I was 19 years old. Some of you may have seen recent posts by a young boy on youtube.com showcasing his 16-year-old brother's rage. I watched all five that have been posted so far, not for the entertainment value, but because I could empathize with this extremely angry teenager. When I was in 5th grade, my mother sent me to my room. I do not recall what my offense was, but I do remember slamming my bedroom door, turning on my stereo to the loudest notch, and burying my head under my pillow. The sounds erupting from the speakers were absolutely ear-splitting and it was physically painful to be in that room surrounded by those sounds. But I did not care. I wanted to punish my mom for punishing me. I wanted to annoy her, make her angry, by playing music as loud as I could. It was the only weapon I had, and I did not care if it hurt me to hurt her.

That is only one of many similar incidents that occurred in my young life. I am not sure what changed, but when I edged toward 20 years old I finally snapped out of it. Anger makes me anxious now. Just a few weeks ago I was on the phone with my mother and she erupted into a verbal assault. Within moments I was in tears, shaking, anxious, and I needed the anger to stop. I managed to utter over her yelling, "Mom, I have to go. I have to go. I can't listen to this. I have to go. I will talk to you later when we've both calmed down. Goodbye." I hung up, and I cried for the next hour.

When I watch this 16-year-old "freak out" (that is how his brother defines these actions), I am almost unable to think. Or at least I would rather not. It reminds me of how I felt during the middle of my "freak outs." It was a temporary release. It felt just as good as it felt awful. This feeling inside me would build and build and I would just wait, yearn, for something to happen so I could let it all out. Any excuse to "freak out" was a good one. "How would you like it if your teachers saw you act like this right now?" Mom would say. I felt ashamed, I felt awful, but "freaking out" was part of my survival. It was the only way I knew how to deal with all of the negative emotions with which our house was absolutely inundated, saturated. During one of my therapy sessions I was asked by my therapist, "If I were a mouse in your house, what would I hear?" I am not sure how I even responded to that, but it is something I have never forgotten. I have a feeling my face probably burned in shame as I stumbled for something to say.

Can I just tell you how happy I am that I am not a child anymore? It sounds so sad. Many people look back on their childhoods and think fond thoughts. Oh, childhood was so carefree! Honestly, I have never felt as carefree as I have in my 20s. These have been the best years of my life. Not because I am not depressed. I will always have to work on my depression. Not because I am not anxious. That will wax and wane. No, these have been the best years because I am no longer a child and I am no longer angry.

As one of my friends told me recently, "Everyone has their tribulations." I warned you. I have no idea what I will end up blogging, but this is what I thought about today.