@SW-User You are a mother and a warrior in a desperate fight. When I was first adopted my adoptive father (the kindest man and best friend I will ever know or have) could see I was just full of "vinegar" in his words...and took me out to the barn. Once there he gave me an axe handle and stood a bale of hay up on its end and spray painted a face on it. He asked me who I was mad at. Of course it was my biologic father who tortured, beat, and raped me, and I told him who. He said well there that Mother F*cker is , do something about it!
I let it all out. Tears, profanity, and every ounce of strength I had. I beat that hay bale into atoms that them beat the ground it was laying on until I was too exhausted to stand. Bloody blisters on my palms and cut knuckles not withstanding. Daddy came back in there and looked at that pile of dust and said "you kicked his ass pretty good!" When I could stand up we went into the house and fixed my hands and I ate. When I went to bed daddy knocked and walked in with that axe handle. He told me nothing could have withstood my power and the beating I just gave. He put the axe handle next to me in bed and told me to always keep it next to me so if I start having the nightmares I know that I am safe. I still have that thing.
Venting your rage is satisfying and necessary. Venting it constructively keeps you out of trouble. Daddy said that is the poison PTSD creates inside of those who have it and getting rid of it is necessary if we want to feel good again. Daddy was a retired Marine colonel and not a psychiatrist but had seen more than his share of PTSD. Over the years he learned that is what worked for his men. He was right I felt amazing the next day, and he drove me down to the martial arts center in town and signed me up. 25 years later I still do it every day. I vent on my dummies and through my work outs. It helps so much more than you can imagine. That really is how I keep it together
