What is a name? (Trigger Warning)

I wrote about my homicidal impulses and how they were taught but now that’s my repsonse to anger recently. There is another aspect of anger that I think I should write about. This post started as a reply to the comments there.

The first thing is I know I will not kill someone. Having been there for a murder, taken part in it albeit against my will and as a very small child, I know that I could not live with myself in that situation because of the pain I caused everyone else. I want to make this absolutely clear though I think it was already. I can kill but I really don’t want to, it is the way I was trained to deal with anger. It’s fairly simple.

Accepting my anger is something that I must do with each flair of temper. This is why I often shut down a bit when angry, it is a conscious choice and something I trained myself to do. I am told it is unhealthy to suppress your anger, and each therapist swears this is what I am doing. I disagree. I am not holding IN my anger but I am holding it back so that I can still choose with a clearer mind and can feel it without executing someone for something petty. This again is to me simple, but it took a lot of work to reach the point where I could chain my anger.

I fear anger and also find that I mentally romanticise anger and violence. I think this another aspect of the way I was raised, but I think that the culture here in the US plays a huge part in this. Everywhere I turn it is not love that is glorified but murder, abuse, and violence. It seems as if in some part everyone is complicit in this reverence for destructive anger. The anger that I romanticise in my mind is not destructive any longer and is actually the source of my last name. When it came time to choose a name and I was identified as someone else, I could have rejected it. When I looked into each definition the one that rang the clearest for me was Fury.

Fury, as a name is a mythological reference of course to the Erinyes or the furies of greek mythology. Vengeance embodied, beautiful at least to me, and always in defense of something. That is fury for me. The mental picture I have of myself is also given over to this aspect of fury. I see myself standing or if I am very angry sitting in my chair, the variance based on more vulnerability from my anger is something I have yet to figure out but more and more often when I imagine myself doing something I am no longer standing. It may just be my mind adapting to the way I now see the world. My posture is always what I would call threatening. My eyes are lowered slightly, not in deference but because that is threatening to me. I have twin swords, there is no shield for me. I am offensive even when defensive. I wear no armor but battle naked in a red stained world against myself. My enemy is either someone who has truly hurt me such as my father or myself in the various stages of my life. These are things I dream of as well. The angry child lashing out at the world must be stopped without hurting her. The mindless creature of wrath that I was as a teenager that tries to kill people by building a bomb takes the form of a really fast zombie like creature that can do the most damage. This creature must be made human. My swords rarely are the answer to my dream problems even.

Fury. I like the sound of it. It makes my heart beat a bit faster. The word makes me feel a hint of my power. I think of all the times when I felt so angry with someone that I wanted to lash out and therefore moved to cut them off and they forced me to look at them and felt fear. I like those feelings. Fury is not always anger for me either but I have felt the fury of love, and at times am protecting others in my dreams. This is something that is a growing trend.

I used to dream of rescue by a Dark Knight (Literally Batman) and now I am fighting my own battles. Yet each dream I am soaked in blood. This is the part that I do not like about the name, it tastes like copper and pain. Fury is never without pain. I have never been without it either. I know I stopped being rescued once before, then I got unmarried. Since I remembered the murder my father committed and that this was a very real incident, I understand some of the things about my dreams. Blood on my hands existed in reality and for me this has become the memory that makes me the most sorrowful.

Fury can cry. That is the other part of my anger that I dislike the most. When my anger is out of pain I often cry. When someone else hurts, I get angry. It seems at times that anger is my primary emotion, though this is not the truth and has not been for 7 years or so. Since I met M. I am not sure how much he has to do with my being able to be happy but joy is my default emotion now. Yet even when I am happy I still feel fury.

I think my anger may be seperate from it but I am still not sure. What I label anger tends to be very petty. Anger is self serving, and it is in anger that I often want to do things that are rash. This is what I hold back, and this is when I do not speak because I am always aware it is petty. I may have wanted to stab someone with scissors but I will not actually do so. Fury is often born out of love, sorrow, and anguish. Fury may be my elegy.

The philologist in me also believes that the Furies are the advent of the Arch Angels in Christianity. They can be both wrathful and loving. It is later tellers of the Greek stories that turned them into creatures only of anger. These earth born goddesses of flight who avenge in the name of the most innocent. There is also evidence that once upon a time a whole host was known beyond the three most often cited. The Furies also are considered beings of death.

I consider myself one as well. I have been beaten until my heart stopped, I have seen things that I cannot explain and a part of me truly believes that what I have seen is real but the rest of me tries to write it off unsuccessfully as a reaction in my brain from trauma. The part of me that writes here with passion is also that part of me that is Fury. That part of me that demands justice? That would be the final reason I chose the name of Fury.

I see Fury as a balance to my mindless rage. I see Fury as my conscience. I see Fury as my reason for being alive. I acted with Fury for the first time when I was certain it would bring me death. Yet when I remember and envision that July 5th, I see it from outside of myself. I always do with most of my memories. I see my face, I see his eyes. I see from inside me too but also from behind him. That was the day that I chose to start hunting a name. That was the day I swore to myself that I would never let someone hurt anyone smaller than me again.

Fury does not mean shouting, though I often want to scream out my fury. It means instead taking action that will benefit more than harm everyone. If possible do no harm and only good. Fury can echo with small words, and it can be quashed by silence. Fury is the part of anger that I think people seek but as emotions are forbidden by all not just for me, mine were just more forbidden and with more force than others, itis harder for people who have not had to step away from the life they know and everything familiar in order to be alive and good. Rageomatic comes to mind with this. Something he said in another comment on another post again.

When he thinks of what I have endured he cries. Well, that goes the same for me. When I think of anyone feeling anything like I have, with that fear and sorrow I weep. I cannot cry for myself, that feels like defeat. It might be that if I cry for myself I will never be able to stop and my fire will be drowned in a river of my own blood. I can cry for the children, I can cry for the men, I can cry for the women who are silenced and I write to fight for them. This is my sword. This keyboard is my pen.

My openness here on this blog and with everything I do is also a part of the dream. It is my other sword. A double edged blade that can cut me. If I am open always then I will learn more, I will laugh more, and I may cry more but it makes it hard to sometimes do what I must to deal with things that try and drag me back to that space when anger is all.

Yesterday the temporary caregiver came in and she was wonderful, and reminded me that it’s okay to need help. I can fight as a warrior and there is someone else to tend my wounds. With that image in mind, I can let go of my renewed fears with caregivers, and the anger melts away. My fury does not, and my passion for making things right by my own moral compass, even if it is a little broken, remains. She reminded me without knowing it that I am a person, and not just a job. Today I found out what I will be doing around my birthday. I am going to a play. In the space of that anger I feel other things again.

I think Fury is different than anger because with fury there are other feelings I can discern. With anger or rage which I use interchangably since as a person made of extremes there is no little spark of anger from me but a fire that explodes and tries to consume. Anger is like salt. There is for me always too much salt and when I am angry it is never the amount that fits the situation.

On the subject that was mentioned of accepting my anger, for me this became simple when I realized that it is my anger because I am the one feeling it. I am responsible for any actions I take when I feel anything. If I get really horny and decide to screw a random girl then that’s my risk to take. I try to not be rash, but I am rather rash despite that. It is rarely anger that makes me rash though, and instead fear or not understanding something. I am glad too. I would rather be rash in ways without anger.

A poem is flicking at the edges of my mind, perhaps a mirror to a song I wrote earlier.

Icarus flew too high
So did I
Icarus saw the sun
I saw the moon
Icarus burned and drowned
I flew past the stars
Icarus never returned
I will see the darkside of the moon
Icarus lives in Elysium
I live in shadows too
Icarus lives in memory
I live in reality

To deal with my feelings and to get back to normal I struggled more than I expected, and even with the date today I felt a bit off. Perhaps it is my worry and my sorrow for my family and friend. I cannot escape that sense of not just empathy but the need to defend. This is another part of abuse that “bites”. When there is someone hurting a child you can stop that, or at least do something. When there is no abuser it feels strange, unnatural, and more horrible. I know this is something that springs from abuse seeping into every part of your mind, the gaslighting aspect that always seems to be ignored when statisticians talk about how victims never seem to leave. Abuse becomes so familiar that things that aren’t abuse become terrifying. Add in the fact that in reality no matter who you are, an abuser is likely to kill you for leaving. YOu can live longer with the abuser than without them in most cases.

This makes me both angry and furious. So while struggling here and knowing my struggles are nothing compared to my friends’ K and J as well as their child’s, I reached for music. This way when my friend needs me, even if it is just to scream at the heavens I am ready and I am there.

These songs may be triggering as some of them describe actual symptoms of PTSD (but they do it so well!). When I could find the lyrics I posted them below the videos as a transcript.

Burn My Pain by Stream of Passion

A thrill, a sigh…
my lips are trembling.
Your breath is thick,
it blows me away.
I know why, I know why,
it’s the curse you’re weaving.
And I know I, I know I
am more than willing to comply.

To rush, the dance
ignite my senses.
You Hear my plea,
it drives you nearer.
You know why, you know what
it’s the spell that binds us.
And I know I, I know I
am more than willing to comply.

I toss and turn
as sleep evades me;
the waves are strong,
the urge is stronger.

Burn my pain away,
sing the song that I long for.
Find the flame within
and reveal all I need to know.
Bur this pain away,
my soul waits in sweet devotion;
all emotions sweel
as I cry out for you.

Burn my pain away,
sing the song that I long for.
Find the flame within
and reveal all I need to know.
Bur this pain away,
my soul waits in sweet devotion;
all emotions swell
as I cry out for you.

Leaves’ Eyes- Elegy

Teardrop on a fragile eyelash
She’s looking like a dream
Hoping for some understanding
An answer or at least
A calming word a single sentence
To restore her heart
Aching since the day I left her
Crossing lonely seas

Silent tears of a woman
Make a warrior cry
Heaven, I beg you
Please release hopes from fears

This is my elegy
Do you know what I feel?
This is my elegy
Do you believe it’s real?
Will I hold you in my arms again?

Dewdrops on a single rosebud
This purity of rain
Reminds me of the moment I left her
Kisses filled with pain
And if I should leave her waiting
For another year
Will she ever know the answer?
Will she follow me?

Silent tears of a woman
Make a warrior cry
Heaven, I beg you
Please release hopes from fears

This is my elegy
Do you know what I feel?
This is my elegy
Do you believe it’s real?
Will I hold you in my arms..
Hold you in my arms again?

A calming word, a single sentence
To restore her heart
Aching since the day I left her
Crossing lonely seas

This is my elegy
Do you know what I feel?
This is my elegy
Do you believe it’s real?

This is my elegy (this is my, this is my..)
Do you know what I feel? (this is my, this is my..)
Elegy
Do you believe it’s real?
Will I hold you in my arms again?

The Endless Night by Stream of Passion (Lyrics included in Video)

Kat’s Note: This would be one song I would give to anyone who wanted to know what PTSD was like, it’s very much a description of dealing with the night time effects of PTSD.

Buried in my pillow
are the marks of your mistake;
as soon as I lay down
I’ll feel them closing in.

Like hitting replay, I’m ready there…
going through the story
I should’ve never lived.

Pull me through this endless night.

There’s a ghost by the door,
there’s a memory that won’t let me go.
Will you please set me free
from the burden that won’t let me sleep?

Buried in my pillow,
to forever taint my dreams,
are those hurtful moments
I should have never lived.

I’ll try anything to stay awake,
and forget the story
that’s taking the best of me.

Pull me through this endless night.

There’s a ghost by the door,
there’s a memory that won’t let me go.
Should I keep looking in,
in the hope I’ll ever feel again?
I don’t know…

There’s a ghost
bearing memories that won’t let me go.
Will you please set me free
from the burden that won’t let me be?

Stream of Passion- Haunted

Same Note as above but this one is more the general feelings of PTSD when that first sense of triggering comes or just after a flash back, at least for me. I rarely just flash back anymore, which is a very good thing.

Días enteros caminando en silencio.
Apuro mis pasos para dejar todo de tras;
Busco en la soledad el espacio para olvidar
Esa voz que me atormenta.

I live in fear when the shadows reappear
Unleashing all their might..
I never thought I´d face the demons on my own.
Make it stop!
Haunted, hunted.

Un suspiro que penetra mi alma,
Un pensamiento constante y hiriente.
Sé que estás ahi, aunque no puedo verte.
Nunca he podido escapar Del yugo de tus ojos.

With every breath I take,
My heart beats faster,
No matter how hard I try to unwind
Tears keep falling from my eyes.
Haunted, hunted, I´m down on my knees;
Forever I´ll mourn the loss of my innocence.

Within Temptation-Pale

The world seems not the same,
Though I know nothing has changed.
It’s all my state of mind,
I can’t leave it all behind.
Have to stand up to be stronger.

Have to try to break free
From the thoughts in my mind.
Use the time that I have,
I can’t say goodbye,
Have to make it right.
Have to fight, cause I know
In the end it’s worthwhile,
That the pain that I feel slowly fades away.
It will be alright.

I know, should realize
Time is precious, it is worthwhile.
Despite how I feel inside,
Have to trust it’ll be all right.
Have to stand up to be stronger.

I have to try to break free
From the thoughts in my mind.
Use the time that I have,
I can’t say goodbye,
Have to make it right.
Have to fight, cause I know
In the end it’s worthwhile,
That the pain that I feel slowly fades away.
It will be all right.

Oh, this night is too long.
Have no strength to go on.
No more pain, I’m floating away.
Through the mist see the face
Of an angel, who calls my name.
I remember you’re the reason I have to stay.

Have to try to break free
From the thoughts in my mind.
Use the time that I have,
I can’t say goodbye,
Have to make it right.
Have to fight, cause I know
In the end it’s worthwhile,
That the pain that I feel slowly fades away.
It will be alright.

Stream of Passion- When you hurt me the most

The air was cold the night I fled,
your eyes were more than I could take;
I ran so fast, I ran like hell,
and still wasn’t able to escape…
The picture’s still fixed in my head:
the stage was all set at my request;
you took the role, you played it well,
I knew it would be easy for you.

Strike me harder now,
push me to the ground.
Pain is sweeter coming from your hand,
I love you when you hurt me the most.

So fell the lash repeatedly,
the icy words cut me deeper still;
I begged for more, you gave no less,
surrendering fully to the game.
You took control, I took the blame,
you had enough so you looked away;
deprived of love, deprived of pain,
no choice but to keep on sinking.

Strike me harder now,
push me to the ground.
Pain is sweeter coming from your hand,
don’t you leave me when I need you the most.

No pain or love left for your slave;
my heart is torn yet you smile the same.
I’ll break the vow,
I’ll tell myself the words that free me from you.

Strike me harder now,
push me to the ground.
Pain is sweeter coming from your hand,
don’t you leave me when I need you the most.

The air was cold the night I fled,
the pain was more than I could take.
You’ve learned your role; you’ll play it well,
I know it will be easy for you.

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