Angry Letters

The Very Expensive Therapist says I should try and find my voice. It supposedly will help me out of this depressive state. Write angry letters to The One I Am Angry At. Say how I feel. Say how what was done makes me feel. Find my Inner Bitch.

Strangely, that thought gives me fear. Anger is fleeting for me, even though I'm sure I have the emotion and am just stuffing it down. There are days I wish I could be as angry as how I really am on the inside. Have one good big, long, fight. With the yelling and the throwing of things. Instead I shut down. Think that my anger is never justified, never allowed, never "good" or "nice." And voila, depression and Very Expensive Therapy.

So now I have to deal. Write angry letters to The One I Am Angry At. The Very Expensive Therapist even challenged me to send them. That thought made me laugh. Sending angry letters to seems fun in a paperback novel. But my life, as we all know, is not a paperback novel. I can live with being an Angry Bitch for a little bit. I don't want to be cast as The Crazy Bitch as well.