Day 174
An expansion on thoughts on scrap paper hastily written during an incident of upset:
I understand abuse.
I used to wonder how a man could, morally, strike a woman. Hurt her, beat her, rape her; on purpose. Or anyone, for that matter. I didn’t understand how they could live with themselves. Could they not see it wasn’t fair? That she couldn’t defend herself? Did they not recognize how much stronger than her they were? How terrifying it would be for her? I find that I no longer wonder.
Rage. Anger. Such anger; uncontrollable, powerful. Raw violence and hatred, undiluted, surging through my veins like electricity. The urge to hurt something, someone, almost overpowers my better judgement. My whole body shakes. My heart pounds in my chest, hard and fast, as if I have run a great length. I’m so angry. Everything I look at makes me angrier — everyone.
I’ll fucking kick your ass, motherfucker! I scream at the walls, imaginary enemies visualized against them, cowering, terrified. Of me. Yes. I laugh. Imagining this pleases me. How powerful I am. How threatening. Yes. Feel my power. My dominance. Recognize that I rule over you. Scream, motherfucker. Show me exactly how much that hurts. How much better I am than you.
I can’t believe how intense the emotion is; I can barely function. Jesus. I’m so angry! Injecting testosterone is like injecting raw death metal into my veins. The intensity of emotion — all, not just anger — is overwhelming. I blast music on the stereo, shaking the bookcase from which it comes. I don’t care. I turn up the volume. Somebody help me chain this animal I have become. I scream at nothing. At the walls, at the empty air, at the stereo. Yelling the lyrics back to it. Somebody get me through this nightmare, I can’t control myself. I throw a fork against the wall in the utter and complete insanity of testosterone-fueled, 18-year-old rage. It punctures the plaster, creating a small neat hole; and I stare at this dent, triumphantly, victoriously; proudly, in fact. Proud of the damage I have created. Harming things, breaking things, is the only release for this raw, powerful and insane violence that pulsates through my body.
I can’t escape myself
So many times I’ve lied
But there’s still rage inside
Somebody get me through this nightmare
Afterwards, it scares me. I am afraid to be challenged, not knowing what I will find I am now capable of; morally, physically. I have not yet had the chance to test the extent of my newfound strength, to indulge in my overpowering rage. I am afraid to find out how capable I really am of hurting someone.
Though also there exists the undeniable lust for violence. Why do young boys go searching for fights? Enlist in the military? Do nothing all day but play graphic, explicit, violent video games? Like sex, like food, it is a need that I now understand. I feel the urge to strike people at the slightest provocation.
Sometimes, I fantasize about someone jumping me, grabbing something from my hands as I stroll down the street; stealing my wallet, pushing me. Provoking me. What would I do?
“Let the hate flow through you…Your hate has made you powerful….” -Emperor Palpatine
Thats the one thing that really worries me about going on T… every man in my family is violent.
What if I become one of them?
Not that I ever admit the possibility, even to myself… but reading that, reminded me, made me think, made me wonder if I should admit it, prepare myself.
It might be wise merely to prepare; though some transman I have met seemingly have no or little issue with anger. However possibly of some comfort, I can tell you that having experienced the less violent type of anger prior to T, it gives one a certain third-person knowledge that ultimately helps you recognize how rageful you’re acting and, hopefully, use that to keep yourself in check.
Also: I myself have considered investing in a punching bag. I think they might prove useful. After all; for what other purpose than to act as a substitute for a person were they created?
This is something I have worried about, but I’d like to think that my core personality–which is extremely non-violent–will persevere over hormones. After all, I know TONS of guys who aren’t violent and angry. Everyone experiences anger; it’s a personal choice as to how to express it. The fact that you are writing about it, singing it out and even tossing things around the room shows your awareness of it, and I think it really becomes a problem when there is a lack of awareness. Personally, I chop wood, play drums, and go for long walks. I certainly hope these activities continue to contain my Dark Side. We shall see…
My core personality is violent, but I usually dissolve the anger into tears.
I am hoping that physical exercise and other coping mechanisms will be enough for me.
From what I’ve read, T will stop almost all impulse to cry, so anger has to be channeled differently. You’re going to get in great physical shape it sounds like!
Oh yeah. Many people owe their non-broken noses to my ‘irrational bursts of tears’…
I suppose I better buy a gym membership and a boxing bag.