Admitting my failures

I'm a rage maniac, I admit it. It took me 34 years to understand my addiction to rage and finally get my anger under control. I was used to being the one who is "quick to blow a fuse, short tempered, temperamental, a rage maniac, a bunch of nerves, a ragehead". My friends were used to stating time and again that "well, you could have guessed that Sini would have a horrible fit of rage", or "Sini just is that type of rager, she gets wound up by completely random things and throws a huge fit, she'll calm down in a bit". Yes, I was the warm-hearted lovable Sini and then there was the other side of me, the total opposite, full of hate and confrontational verbal or physical aggression. I loved to rage. A proper fit of rage brought goosebumps and made me feel immortal. The adrenaline flowed through my body and I always found a reason to yell and shout about one thing or another. Usually the reason wasn't the person I was yelling at but something that I thought was worth an extreme fit of rage. I raged at my friends, my family, and my closest ones. To strangers I was always nice and positive. The fits sometimes lasted for many hours, sometimes only fifteen minutes. I could always detach myself easily from the rage attack, as long as it had reached its peak. I enjoyed the feeling of letting myself be mean, horrible, and extremely frightening towards many of my most sensitive friends. I felt I had every reason to rage and I was fully entitled to get wound up by all kinds of things. For me, the episode took whatever time it took and ended abruptly once I reached the peak. I sometimes broke things but mainly I threatened to break or burn down the house or car or kill everyone.

Top from  Disturb.fi

I remember very little of my rages. Everything turns into a blur and nothing matters at all. It wasn't embarrassing to have a fit in the street, in a restaurant, or anywhere. It didn't matter at all who saw it or what they thought of me. I shouted at the top of my lungs about my frustation towards the behavior of some of my friends or other people. I yelled my surprise when some small insignificant thing didn't go as I had planned. Often things weren't even up to me, I just wanted to yell out my point on how I thought something should have been done. In my mind, I was always completely correct and had a right to yell.

I got wound up about one thing and another and I would provoke myself from a first gust of irritation to an infernal rage. I was like someone with multiple personalities. Sometimes I would be afraid that I would hurt someone. I saw myself tearing someone's head off or stabbing them in the stomach. I was nearly uncontrollable. I never hurt anyone physically, although I did threaten to do so. The worst fits I've had were in the presence of my family members, the pin up girls, my spouses.

I never understood this side of myself, as in my arrogance I didn't want to hear that there was anything wrong with me. During a fit of rage I still realized that I was completely out of control, controlled by my feelings. While yelling or stopping for a breath of air, I asked myself why am I doing this again, why am I ruining this day, or why can't I just not have these rages. There wasn't a single time when I could have stopped or interrupted an immense fit of rage. Not one single time.

If I hadn't had a fit in a while, meaning a few days, I would begin to look for reasons and build up the aggression. I was incredibly talented at pumping myself up to blind anger and rage. Often during this I tried to stop myself without success.
I saw myself as someone else when raging. I was already sad due to the feelings of those surrounding me, while at the same time I was screaming at them in a rage. I wanted to apologize to them right after my rage, but was too proud to do so. After calming down I reasoned that I had every right to behave the way I had and I hoped they would understand that. In the end, I usually still had to humbly apologize for my behavior, but I still claimed that I had good reason but just took it too far. And usually my friends just shrugged and let it be, not wanting to take the discussion any further. Looking back, they probably didn't want to get me fired up for another fit, so they just kept quiet. "That's just how Sini is..."

I felt that the rages were a part of my identity. I felt I was something special compared to others. I felt like I was a rougher tomboy who no one messes around with. I also felt I was above everyone else when I was enveloped by intense rage and anger.

I convinced everyone that I wasn't interested in what others thought of me, although my everyday life was more or less centered around that thought. I was very insecure, I was afraid I would fail and be abandoned. I felt continuous guilt for being me and now I understand that I had very weak self esteem. It was easy to pretend to be strong, especially as a raging lunatic. I sometimes thought that if I stopped raging, I would become so-called normal. What a stupid, arrogant, and childish thought. What's wrong with being normal, when such a thing doesn't even exist. Everyone is unique in some way, and raging didn't make me special even though that was what many who saw my rage fits probably remembered about me.

Wedding foto by StudioDC3 Jamie Gilmore

Everything stopped suddenly.
It was our wedding day with Stuart 27.11.2015. We were filming the tv show
Australia's Cheapest Weddings for channel 7. In the morning, my hair was done up in curls and I did my own make up. The tv cameras were there in our home. I was ashamed of how messy our home was and that I was sitting on an exercise ball by a little table putting on my make up, and we didn't have a fancy light table like Hollywood stars. There were flies in the room, since we do live on a farm. It was hot and my hair already felt like it was being glued to my neck, sweat running down my forehead.

I finished my make up. I was totally disappointed with my face. My eyebrows were mismatched, the eyeshadow was too red, the foundation was too pale, and I had forgotten to buy new lashes so I had to glue on old ones. So I left our home with poor make up, and note that these were thoughts inside my head, no one else thought there was anything wrong with my make up, hair, or outfit. The main thing getting on my nerves was that I felt fat. I saw myself as a human monster after having stuffed myself in a white wedding gown. I knew pictures would end up in magazines so I was getting more and more pissed off and had an intense need to show off. I wanted to be flawless.

Stuart was waiting at the courthouse. The tv crew followed me and I was all smiles for the cameras while at the same time I was boiling inside. I was pissed off about having "prostituted" our big day to the media. I was anxious of whether things would go flawlessly because my pressure to succeed had gone to extremes. I smiled at the cameras and pretended to be funny, flashy and sympathetic, while inside a boundless rage boiled. I was extremely disappointed in myself. I had invited the tv and media to our confession of love, to a day where they really don't belong. Oh how pissed off I was about my own behavior, I still remember it. Weeeell, the day continued through the doors of the magistrate and the moment we walked in, the cameras were already rolling and the woman began reading her epistle. It was all done within 5 minutes. My mother-in-law read a verse from the Bible, from the Corinthian letters, and shed a tear. I thought of how wonderful it would have been to have a romantic moment and just be quiet among my loved ones, when the director said "cut" and let's shoot it again from the top with you two coming into the room, we'll use another angle. At that point, my self-loathing had risen to extremes and my feeling of being fat as well as my sweating hair began to develop into a burst of rage.

We shot it again and signed our names. I had promised to sell our wedding photos to Seiska magazine, which also pissed me off. Pissed off like a little squirrel who has a frozen pine cone. Weeeeell, I put on an overly perky smile and took the damn photos that had been promised. My only thought was why did I even want my picture in the paper to be dissed by others.

Being in the media through my work as a model and tv tattoo artist had never annoyed me as it did on this particular day. I'm unable to say exactly why. Usually cameras or publicity don't bother me. Perhaps this is how things had to go so I could finally get rid of the behavioral disorder that was eating away at my soul.

The photos were taken and smiles smiled. The tv crew gathered up their things and packed up their car. We agreed to meet again at our big wedding party next Easter, when we would have a big farm wedding for our relatives. Our photographer friend Jamie faithfully took the rest of the agreed photos at the magistrate and we moved to our car to have our wedding photos taken on the beach in Newcastle.

It began when we left the magistrate. The first huff was, "why didn't anyone fucking tell me that my hair was so bad and why couldn't anyone fix it. Why the fuck is no one interested in anything but themselves and my face should be front and center all the time well represented and not with this shitty hairdo..." I know, sounds like a complete asshole. I understood already in that moment that I would ruin our wedding day. I tries to calm myself down in my head without succeeding.

We drove for 50 minutes to the photo location on the beach and I complained that whole way about the things that had gone wrong that day and about why did everything have to go to hell on our wedding day. Nothing was actually wrong, I just wanted to get worked up in a rage and ruin our wedding day that way. It feels insane, why did I want to do that. It's difficult to understand why a rage maniac wants to ruin a situation or a day on purpose, even though they don't want to deep down inside. The feeling is very divisive. Inside I asked myself why am I doing this and why am I so incredibly mean to Stuart, and the meaner I was, the more I hated myself and the meaner I got. The day was just horrible. I yelled at them both, Stuart and Jamie. Everything, and I mean every single thing, was completely fucked up. Including the photos in the cameras lens, like the weather and the dress and the make up and the hair and the shoes and and and...

The boys tried to calm me down as best they could and I just kept raging, raging while we took the photos.

I remember saying something to Stuart's face about hating him so much I felt like ripping his face off, that's how angry I was.
I still don't know the reason, I don't know the reason for any of the rages I've had. All of them felt justified at the time.

We finished shooting the photos and moved on to dinner with a small group. We sat next to each other in the restaurant, everyone congratulating us, and I was just boiling. I was so incredibly disappointed, angry, and full of rage. I tried my best to keep the fit from continuing but failed. Jamie sent me wonderful photos already while we were eating, I bluntly said I look horribly fat and ugly and that any photos of me won't be published anywhere under any circumstances. Again everyone tried to calm me down and explain my behavior with wedding stress. That was just it, there was never any proper reason for my behavior, so everyone always tried to invent one reason or another to explain my horribleness. And if they didn't, then I would do it myself. The reason was always something other that myself.

We went to a pub and I had already calmed down. I had completely ruined our wedding day and dinner and the whole beautiful experience. This was Stuart's first wedding and my second, that also pissed me off for some reason. In the pub, my Louis Vuitton purse was stolen. That didn't move me one bit, I was so worn out by my own raging that I didn't have the energy to react to it in any way. Stuart was completely blown away by me not having an ultimate fit but instead just shrugging my shoulders.

We went to bed and before that I had time to put down the hotel room and everything in the room. Beginning with the temperature of the tap water. Stuart was completely phlegmatic after this continuing for the whole day, he said he just wanted to go to sleep. As the last thing on our wedding bed, he said he loved me, to which I replied that I hope to die tonight. I turned my back to him and we went to sleep.

Note that he had not done anything that day to deserve my horrible behavior.

Sometime in the early hours I woke up as I heard him crying quietly behind my back. I wanted to pretend to be asleep and be coldly proud. I listened for a while, shocked by my own behavior, I hadn't even had any alcohol the whole day to explain myself. I turned to him and quietly said "I'm sorry." I didn't even burst out crying, I was so confused by the state I had driven my loved one to. I was shocked by myself. Stuart said to me,"I'm happy that you said you're sorry, because I told myself that if sorry isn't the first thing you say, I'm going to drive straight to the magistrate and file immediately for a divorce. I am worth more than the way you treat me. I don't have to let myself be treated like this. I'm a good person." He didn't hate me but my behavior. He said that I have to get help and admit my problem with anger management, and he's willing to help me with that and if I wasn't going to do so, he wouldn't force himself to live with someone like me. Fully understandable. I was so immensely grateful. I still asked did I supposedly have fits if rage often, and he answered "at least twice a day. It's like walking on eggshells in our home, waiting for an explosion." I was shocked. How could I not have noticed this. I had driven the person I loved most to such great anxiety in his own home and made him live in fear of me going off on a rage for whatever reason.

I promised to begin healing immediately. I was so grateful that he didn't dump me there and then.

We began to talk. We talked about everything. We had discussions about my childhood and the bullying at school as well as my friendships. I began to understand that I was addicted to rage. I enjoyed it. I loved and hated it. I even said that nothing beats a proper fit of rage. The raging had become a part of my identity, it had become my trademark.

The first step towards healing was recognizing when the rage was building up. I feel it as a pressing feeling in my throat. We decided that all I had to do was say so and we would stop what we were doing, I would sit down calmly and breath. This is how I primarily avoided winding myself up to the point of rage. I calmed myself down and reminded myself of our wedding night. There was nothing I wouldn't have done to keep that loved person in my life.

I remember one day when Stuart rejoiced, "think about it, three days already completely without any raging!" Come on, three days and already being happy about it. Then it became ten days, a month, and couple, and finally a year without any fits of rage. In the beginning I had to always stop myself and tell those who were present that I need to take a little timeout because I'm getting over anger management issues.

I wasn't ashamed of myself anymore, I felt strong admitting my weakness to others. I called Joni (my ex husband) and cried for forgiveness and understanding, as well as my mom, dad, and dozens of friends. I told them openly what had happened on our wedding day and how I would like to heal my life. I was spiritually ill.

Today those fits of rage seem so far away. I haven't had a single one since our wedding day 27.11.2015, and I am immensely proud of that. I work on this still every day, I don't give myself reasons to pile up the rage, and I say so immediately if I begin to feel like that.

I'm a healing ragehead probably for the rest of my life. It feels good to finally be my own master and commander and treat other people always in a nice manner, without having to fear losing my dearest ones for a love of raging.

I'm telling you this secret about myself openly because I hope this will help others who struggle with the same thing. I also want to humbly apologize to those who I've hurt over the years due to this. I'm sorry.
Hate me love me I don't honestly care anymore. Ilove my family and my friends. I don't try to please anyone anymore. I feel strong. Hopefully this story of my problem shows you that life is for growing to be better version of yourself. Problems can be solved and healed if you realise them first
Translated from the original Finnish text by Stiina Rasimus-Sahari