Suppressed Rage and Boundarylessness

Today I want to share an experience I went through here in my little "pocket reality" as I call it. This is all about releasing several lifetimes worth of pent up anger over continual boundary violations.

When I first moved into my little apartment here, I had a talk with my cats Tilly and Eddie about what I absolutely will not allow them to do. I don't have many rules for cats, but there are two: 1) do not claw my furniture, claw the furniture I got just for you; 2) do not under any circumstances pee on my bed or you will be banned from the bedroom.

Well, you can guess somebody broke something.

I came home from work and getting groceries, thinking it would be nice to put everything away and have a glass of wine, when I felt for some reason I should look in the bedroom. I saw the top blanket was pulled over to cover up something, which can only mean one thing: somebody peed and wanted to bury it. There's only one cat who does this, Tilly.

For a couple of weeks now, she's been peeing on the bath mat. I do not know why. I ask my soul, and I get it's because something scared her. There's nothing I can do about that, so I kept cleaning the mat until I got sick of doing that and threw the old one out. I got new ones that I could hang up when I'm not using them. Is she sick? Is she really just getting scared? What's her problem?

Puzzled, frustration mounting, I kept worrying over it in my head.

Well, before I could figure it out, she goes and pees on the bed. And I blow a gasket. Of course, Tilly's a wise cat and knows that when a Lyrian is angry to just vacate the room and let them scream at the walls until it blows over. I admit that I swear a lot. Quite regularly. Seraphel will gleefully tell you there's no one like Kyrie who can enunciate the word "cunt" with such emphasis. (One of the words I use rarely. I prefer a good "fuck" instead.) That said, I do not call people names usually, and by people I include animals. Not unless I am so angry, I can't even see straight.

The walls were insulted on Tilly's behalf, who was not even present to receive my furious diatribe of irreputable labels. Having my bed peed on is like the peak of disrespect. I'm not somebody who makes a lot of rules about respectful/disrespectful behavior, but that's one of the big ones.

All of that said, what I started saying when I got around to being so mad I started to cry was very interesting:

• Why can't anyone treat me like I'm a person?
• Why does everyone think I'm just some thing to be of use?
• Why is it so hard for people to show me simple respect?
• Do they just not care?
• Why are people constantly just ignoring me when I tell them to not do something?
• Do I need to start hitting people to make my point?
• What do I have to do to get people to stop violating every boundary I put down?
• I'm allowed to have preferences and state boundaries and people should respect those!

(Sprinkle in whatever swear words you desire. There were a large variety of expletives used as adjectives here.)

And with it came this very distinct feeling of being a thing and not a person. Like I'm an object that gets thrown around by other people. That my preferences do not matter. That my personal space doesn't matter. That I can be used and abused anyway anyone likes and I just have to accept it and take it.

For the first time in many lifetimes, that made me extremely angry. I wanted to seriously hurt all those people who have treated me so carelessly in this life and every other life that has happened. Finally, I was feeling the appropriate level of rage at being discarded and disrespected at the levels I have experienced.

I have had so many nightmares about this feeling over the years. It's always a bunch of people who show up to my home to spontaneously have a party. First I politely ask them to leave. Then I yell at them to leave. Then I scream at them to leave. Then I get physically violent and try to punch them, but my fist is moving through jelly and I can't connect the punch. And nothing I do makes them leave. Nothing. Ever. I usually end up vacating my own home just to get away from these intruders. Once, I had them follow​ me around the dream. It was awful!

After I calmed down and cleaned up the mess, I still had to deal with the instability in this reality. (I was guided last weekend to get a new cleaner for cat urine...it's like I knew this shit was coming.) Tilly was still making a mess all over the apartment, because I had to close the bedroom and the bathroom door. She wasn't using the litterbox, which necessitated a complete change in the litter. Why? I don't know. But that appears to have triggered the stabilization process.

Now it seems things are calming down. Tilly has used the litterbox with the new litter, and I almost threw a freaking party.

But here's an interesting thing. For the last few weeks, my throat and lungs have been sore. Nothing I've done was helping it. The pain in my right tonsil, larynx, and lungs just kept hanging around. Until I blew a gasket, yelled, screamed, and released all that anger. And now it's like the sore throat and lungs didn't even happen.

You know, I love to try to be aware of myself enough that I can get ahead of having to do things like this. I like to try to be aware of my shadows as much as I can so I can release stuck energies before they fester... But sometimes, I can't see things that are buried deep and I have to do things the hard way.

I guess that's just how it is.

I'll go ahead and say it, because I know Tilly is just doing the job my team asked her to do... Thank you for triggering the fuck out of me so I could release all that, Tillybell.


I thank you for your time. Adiamas.

--Kyriel