I’ve been known to throw a few things in the past, at walls, at floors, at people I love. There is a sick satisfaction to this action, albeit momentarily. The guilt follows much too quickly for any true satisfaction. Those were the days when anger got the better of me. Those were the days of passionate fits. Gone are those days, I’m all fought out. I’ve lost the fire. My ex-marriage brought an end to that. That is what the majority of 24 years in a fight can do.
My fire burns a bit dimmer these days, but steadily. After all, that is what my name means. So, I have to keep some fire. But, I’ve been single now for over 3 years, separated for almost 4 years. During this time, I have found my voice, my opinions, my strength and self-respect.
Most people have these qualities and use them spontaneously, but once my marriage became an abusive environment, I shut it all down. I had to, for survival. The interesting thing is that my ex would probably report the same abuse from me. I did yell, fight and shout, but I thought I was fighting for my marriage, to keep it.