I’ve never thought of myself as an aggressive person.
Growing up, I had to physically defend myself against older brothers who would push me around and whatnot. I learned how to fight back during their obsession of WWE. I had to. I was a tiny little girl and they were bigger boys with muscles.
I remember once Chris had picked me up to “bodyslam” me on our couch and I dragged my nail as deep as I could into his back. He yelped and called for our mom. I had broken skin. My mom looked at me with a bemused look and I stared back cooly. I don’t remember her admonishing me or anything. Just staring at me in a shocked look.
Another instance was when I was in the car with Robbie and Caitlin. I don’t remember how old we were but I know my mom drove a Volvo. It must’ve been early 2000’s or something. Anyways, Robbie was picking on me like he always did and I snapped. We had those loose, long seat belts like the ones on planes, and I grabbed the one with the metal bucket and hit him as hard as I could with it. It must’ve really hurt because Robbie started crying and screaming. This time my mom made me say sorry and I did. When she turned around, I glared at him.
Only in the past year have I realized how combative I really am. The time that triggered it for me was last year when Kelsey and I were in Berlin with her boyfriend and his brother. She had been fucking with me for some reason and I saw red. Immediately, I pinned her against the wall and held her neck with my forearm. I stared into her eyes and watched her expression fade from jovial to terrified. Her boyfriend would later tell me that he didn’t recognize me and I had turned into a savage.
Also, when I would sleep with people, I would like to be rough or be roughed up. I was once seeing a guy who was very similar to myself. We had been having a heated discussion and I decided to just leave his apartment. He rode the elevator down with me and we both stared at each other with that wild look. We both wanted to inflict pain onto the other but we knew we couldn’t hit each other. Instead, we lunged at each other and began kissing and biting feverishly. I pulled his hair as hard as I could and he dug his nails into my sides until it hurt. When we arrived to the ground floor, I pushed him off of me and walked away. I was satisfied that I had gotten my aggression out and left him standing there dumbfounded.
You’re all probably thinking that now when you see me, you will want to stand about five feet from me but there’s a meaning to this story. It all comes from me having a difficult time expressing myself. I also sometimes just needed to feel something. The gratifying feeling of making someone hurt as much as I did. When you grow up not knowing how to express your anger in a nonvolatile way, you have to let it out sometimes.
I struggle with this quite a bit to be honest. Once it had been pointed out to me, I had to change the part in me that had always thought it was OK. That’s going back and changing almost two decades of a piece of you. Thankfully, writing helps. You can tell how angry I am in my journals by how hard I write, with my pen almost breaking through the page.
I’m trying to grow and change that part of me but DAMN it’s hard. It’s SO hard to deal with feelings. Especially angry feelings. GOD DAMN.
But, it does help in my writing. I want my readers to feel everything through my posts and be able to relate. I started this blog as a way to not sugarcoat things. This is fucking real and it’s me.
Well, there you have it, me being vulnerable and giving the World Wide Web another piece of Megan.