I'm really REALLY bad at naming my own emotions. I can read people like books, but I can't tell the difference between fear and anger. I figured, if I'm shaking so hard, it must be because I'm scared. I have so much self control that it's a bad thing. I can't act unless I decide to act. My face doesn't even change unless I let it, so no one can tell if I'm mad unless I allow them to know. It's really terrible, because I can't read me and neither can anyone else. It took me 12 years to finally get what I was feeling.

I'm not shaking because I'm scared. I'm shaking because I'm angry. 

I still have terrible anxiety, but half if not most of my attacks are anger, turned into fear by some twisted alchemy of the brain. This one, huge emotion I've always ignored is the reason I dream of killing people. It's the reason I hurt myself. It's caused so much, and now I can name it. I started hurting myself when the abuse started. I wanted to hurt him. I wanted to tear things apart. But those things would get me in trouble. The only thing around that I could turn that desire at was me. So I hurt me. Again and again and again, into adulthood. 

Tangled in a mess of unnamed emotions, being able to name just one base feeling, one cause, is such a relief. I'm still angry at so much, but at least I can take care of it. At least I know what it is, now.