trauma work is grief work

For the longest time I couldn't figure out where my anger came from. I let it circulate and inflate me with heat, but I would never be able to release it in a peaceful way. I couldn't figure why my heart was palpating from bursts of anger. Even as it dissipate, it leaves a faint stain of bitterness, despair, or even resentment.

Today I was sitting across a therapist, whom I find mediocre at being able to resonate with me and help me. I knew she wouldn't have the answer to what I was experiencing. But my feelings was boiling at that point, so I poured out all my emotions regardless. All of a sudden I realized that I was at that point, grieving in front of her.

I was emotional from the loving father I never had, all the time and energy I spent into adjusting to generational trauma, the roads I could not have traveled in life. It was such a minute lightbulb of a thought, but it felt like I have thousands of pounds loaded off my shoulders. It was for my loss in my age of innocence. In my coming of age, I have to re-wire, regurgitate a path for myself.

I understand now. The cynical, furious, and unrelenting part of me. She is the protective force inside me, always the advocate for me in times of need. Because trauma was always ongoing. I had to constant be on danger mode and associate the now with the past.

I see you now. It took so long to find out what's underneath my repressed anger and resentment, but I can see you now. And then, I know I have to see you go.