Anger- Why We Would Rather Blame Ourselves

As shame has been fading away, I have found anger rising in its place.

Anger has always been a tough one for me. Tough to feel, and tough to tolerate from others. So, I would turn that anger inward. Of course, that becomes depression. That depression held me captive. I made it all about me, and therefore could avoid that dangerous anger.

Some anger is fleeting. All it demands is recognition, and it fades away. Dealing with my current triggers is getting easier; dare I say automatic?

Sometimes I can simply acknowledge them in my mind or aloud. Others continue to needle me. I might pull out my journal. I can express how unfair a person or situation is. I might even indulge in some flight of fancy, writing out how I wish I could respond.

Assuming it is unnecessary to address.

If that doesn’t release the anger, I can call someone I trust to talk it through. Sometimes I just want a listening ear.

Other times, like today, I need some advice.

I just had a shoulder replacement 2 weeks ago. Now, I have started physical therapy yet again. I have many physical complaints and have been to this PT practice several times. Including for this shoulder.

The first time I had fallen, landing against a wall with my arm outstretched and my elbow locked. The therapist decided it was largely in my mind. She was giving me worksheets about anxiety and depression. I felt so much shame from her questioning that I rushed through the process and convinced them to release me. I didn’t have to try very hard.  

A second time, they rushed me through. I was told I could do the exercises at home. When I expressed concern that my form was poor, the response was, “Well, you can’t expect to come here for us to watch you exercise.”

I even got a series of cortisone injections. They helped. Just not for long enough.

Finally, when an x-ray showed arthritis and maybe a half dozen other issues, the Dr. was talking about surgery. My primary Dr. suggested I get a second opinion. Those x-rays showed the joint was bone on bone. Still surgery, just a different one.

Now, prior to the surgery, I had been going to the gym and working with a trainer for 4 months. This is doubtless the strongest I have ever been. I learned to push to the point of failure. I even welcomed the muscle shaking just before. All to say, I had been feeling good about my physical self.

Until I returned to PT. I could hear the staff speaking in hushed voices halfway across the room. They seemed to question my diagnosis. Wondering how I could have needed surgery when it had been a minor injury. Just a fall.

Talking it out

The anger kept niggling at me. I called up my best friend. She suggested I confront the woman. It was disrespectful and plain old bad healthcare.

I knew if I did, I wouldn’t want to go back there. The closest alternative was 40 minutes away.

I knew it would feel good now. I would feel vindicated. She might feel lousy. However, I wasn’t sure it was worth the cost.

I called my sister next. She had a different take on the situation. I am getting effective treatment there now. Maybe it is none of my business what they think or say. They don’t have to be my friends. I don’t even need to talk to them. Perhaps this is a battle that is not worth fighting.

An internal battle

It was a messy situation. Do I vent to the physical therapist? Call her to task? Or do I move on? Use her for her expertise and get back to my life?

I felt afraid to confront her. My feelings were racing backwards, plugging into the anger at the abuse so long ago.

Making her feel bad might do me good, I reasoned. Taking care of myself was important.

A healthier version of me piped up. If I did, I would need to go to a different location. Chances are, she might not really hear me. She would probably shrug it off. Maybe have a good laugh with her friends.

Shame chose this moment to raise its head.

It was really my fault; it whispered. I should have brought it up then. It really had not seemed so bad.

And besides, it continued, you make things up. You are a faker and a liar. The only surprising thing is that anyone ever believes you.

It continued. A death spiral, of sorts.

Until my healthy side intervened once again. It called out the lies shame was feeding me. Nothing about this was my fault. Any more than the abuse at my father’s hands as a child had been.

She had been wrong, and my treatment had suffered. Anger was an appropriate reaction. But anger is a feeling. It is up to me what my actions would be.

That stopped me.

I decided

I left well enough alone. The physical therapist was not questioning me this time. She was quiet, rather than her usual speed talking self. Perhaps she was concerned that her treatment, or lack of treatment, had worsened my injury.

My sister was right. Her feelings are none of my concern.

I was there to get whole. Not to please or forgive anyone for past mistakes.

Falling into that old shame spiral was still far too easy. Even after over 10 years from my first perfectly happy day. Even when I am so far past the abuse that I consider myself healed and whole.

Why do we blame ourselves? Anger is strong, protective. It can also be dangerous. Shame keeps everything our fault. Then, in a flash, no more anger. During the abuse, anger was dangerous. It really would have gotten us hurt. Call it an old habit.

Or maybe we avoid feeling anger because it is just so darn easy.

What are your thoughts? How do you experience anger? Do you use shame to keep the anger at bay? Put your comments below. I’d love your perspective.