I’d like to start this with a statement, a mantra, something that will make me feel less guilty for shedding light on some of the flaws within my family. I was raised in a loving home and had an extremely fortunate childhood. Okay, see ya guilt and sorry mom.

Growing up, my dad had a lot of misplaced anger and he directed a lot of it onto my mom. My mom never really stood up for herself, she always shrunk back and took it for what it was. Misplaced. I never heard her say “I’m hurting” and I never heard my dad say “I’m sorry.” The yelling would transpire and then the family would collectively lift the rug where we kept all the family dirt and quickly sweep it into the ever growing pile. All done. What’s for dinner?

I distinctly remember the days in elementary school where I would cry to my mom, screaming that I just didn’t feel like myself that day.

I became an angry child. I had these feelings that I could not attach words to and even if I did I was never taught how to use them. All of my anger was directed towards my parents and it was all extremely misplaced. Surprised? I wasn’t. My anger went unattended to but not unnoticed all the way until I was in 9th grade, where my parents decided something was seriously out of whack. My grades were slipping, my social life blossoming- and with that the only thing my parents could come up with was a learning disorder. I was sent to take a 9 hour test, which would assess both my emotional and academic “issues.”

Severe depression. Anxiety. Mood Disorder. ADD/ADHD. Diagnosis’s that shouldn’t have, but did, shock both me and my family. Finally I had permission to blame my mind and not my body.

I quickly lost control. I no longer was Ali. I was my diagnosis.

My anger quickly leaked into my social life, I was getting angry towards my friends over small things that didn’t matter. When my anger is triggered, it’s episodic. It happens and when I get a reaction it stops. I lift the rug, brush the dirt under, and carry on as if nothing happened. I expected everyone to do the same. (Spoiler- they didn’t.)

In Utah, I learned about secondary emotions and anger was at the top of the list. Anger was a cover for what you were feeling but could not say (vulnerable, sad, lonely, etc..) This must have hit home subconsciously because although I couldn’t utilize it then, I never forgot it.

I am 21 now, and it was not until 2 months ago when I woke up, with no one left to be angry at, that it all smacked me in the face. I am not and never was an angry person. I am a person who has felt left out, vulnerable, needed validation, but believed the only way to voice these feelings was with anger. Now I am a person with knowledge and an extremely difficult task of uprooting a belief that was planted in me as far back as I can remember. Free of anger, full of debt, ready to change.