Yesterday, I received an email that caused my rage-o-meter to explode.  Along with my head.

To set the stage for this, I will confess that in the past nine months or so, I have been experiencing (what I consider to be) unreasonable anger at many undeserving things.  (Of course, I grew up thinking that only bad people experienced anger, and even worse people actually let anyone know that they felt angry…)  I’m working on it with my fave counsellor, so just give me time.

Anyway, this email sent me stratospheric, and really it didn’t deserve such a reaction.  It tapped into a whole lot of feelings (yes, many of them angry feelings) that I haven’t expressed, particularly to the people who are related to why I’m feeling that way.

I do know better than to hit “reply” when I’m feeling that way.  So I starred the email for reply at a later time, and stewed and steamed.  I desperately wanted to write a post about the email, and why it caused me to melt down, but I had the sneaking suspicion that I would regret it.  And that there might be serious consequences, such as someone reading it and not liking me anymore.

I do have a streak of paranoia (you’re stunned to hear such a thing, I know), and I thought, what if this person reads this post some time?  And really, how passive-aggressive, to post my rant and roar about it on the internet.  (Well, this second thought has only come to me today, but still.)

Part of this paranoia stems from the time my boyfriend-at-the-time read my journal, which expressed some inner questioning I was having about our relationship.  He didn’t seem to think anything was wrong with having massively invaded my privacy;  after all, I’d left the notebook behind at his place, so wasn’t I inviting him to read it?  (And if you’re reading this, you know who you are.)

I am still struggling with an issue of trust around this.  My counsellors tell me that I should journal my feelings, that no one else will read them, and my eyeballs pop out as I screech, “But they will read them!!!!”  There have been a lot of things lately that I’ve needed to process, but I haven’t done so because I still have a lingering (if irrational) fear that people will read it.  I don’t want to have to lock my journal away between writings, because, let’s face it, if it’s too far away or too hard to get to, my natural inclination to laziness will prevent me from going to get it.  But at the same time, I don’t feel safe.

All of this is to say that I took the plunge yesterday and wrote like a madwoman about this email and my feelings about it.  (Not much of a risk that the email sender will ever come across my journal, but I still have this lingering fear that if people know that I write this kind of stuff in my journal, they will be compelled to see if I’ve written anything about them in it.)

I think it was wise to not post about it, and I eventually felt a bit better.  (After I told the story to my roomie when she got home, and actually shouted in her direction – not at her but in telling her about it – and she was alarmed.  I think it was the shouting that actually helped.  Sorry, K.)

I’m glad I posted today about this, and that I raged about the actual details elsewhere.  My boundaries are often screwy, but I think I made the right choice this time.