"I'm Mad at You for Hurting Me": How to Process Lingering Anger

This post was written by guest author, Andee Scarantino, host of the Get the F*ck Off Podcast. Andee's story is one of stuckness and triumph, and you are going to want to put yourself in her energizing orbit. She bartended for many years and found herself coming to grips with alcoholism and a neglected body and is now a literal MARATHON runner and mindset coach. Andee started her coaching business and podcast to help others "get the fuck off the shit that doesn't serve you," and wow, do I want to borrow her energy and conviction most days. If you enjoy this article and want more of Andee, you can follow her on Instagram @_getthefuckoff or head to her website, getthefuckoff.com, and join her email list for an incredible weekly newsletter.

I’m Mad at You for Hurting Me

By Andee Scarantino

I did an Instagram Live this morning as I was brooding in my feelings about how when a relationship or friendship ends, a lot of the time we find ourselves in anger after the fact.

I remember when my relationship with my ex boyfriend ended, I was so, so angry.

My ex knew I had abandonment issues, so he'd play on those when he wanted to be hurtful. (i.e. leaving me at the airport in the middle of the night in the dead of winter without a flight home, or leaving me on a train from Far Rockaway because he didn't like something I said about some people he knew)

The last time he did it was at the beginning of COVID. The virus was all over NYC, things were shutting down, there were field hospitals being set up and freezer trucks outside hospitals, and my ex, one of the main people in my support system, thought that would be a great time to "take a break from us talking."

I later found out he just couldn't deal with the idea of me being in that situation, but ... "fuck you."

Anyway. During his absence, I went through all the emotions and the anger just kept bubbling to the surface. Anger over everything, over all the times he left me places, over all the times he didn't defend me. He had a lot of friends who would be rude to me or dismiss me, and my ex really cared about what others thought of him, so he just let it happen.

I thought of the time I went all the way to JFK to see him when he had an hour and a half layover before he flew to Europe, only for him to spend every minute of our time together talking about how he hated life and wanted to be dead.

I thought of the time I went to pick him up from the airport, and I had a few too many drinks because his flight was delayed. I was I guess extra chatty, because he told me he couldn't stand my fucking talking, and then when we got to Union Square, one train stop away from mine, he left me in the station and went and stayed in a hotel.

There were many other things. He was horrible. I cried all the time.

But when I thought back to all of it, every single thing that happened, I wasn't mad at him. I was mad at myself for staying. I was mad at myself for disrespecting myself. I was mad for not having my back.

I knew he was a slave to the opinions of others, but I didn't stand up for myself.

I knew he was abusive, but I begged him to allow me to stay. I fought to make that horrible reality work.

And for that, the gnawing, terrible feeling inside of me was not because of him, but rather because of me. I was disgusted with myself for not having the self-esteem to leave him.

I talked in my live about how this doesn't just have to be romantic relationships.

My old job, for example, was also horribly abusive.

They would refuse to make our food so we couldn't eat, refuse us breaks, and berate people for calling out when close family members died... They would make us do the work of three or four employees when New York raised the minimum wage. I worked in sewage a bunch of times. I worked with people who were actual liabilities, who showed up drunk, high, or both. I worked with people who purposefully manipulated us.

When I tell you, this job was a hell I can't ever describe.

But when I reflect on it, I'm not mad at one solitary person except myself. I'm mad at myself for staying. I had the education and skills for leaving at any time, but I didn't know how. After so many years of that, I actually believed I had no worth or value.

If this sounds like something you're going through, my advice is to find a way to forgive yourself.

We harbor all of this guilt and shame for staying in these things, and when they end and we take a step back, we often see exactly what happened so clearly.

Forgive yourself for it. Cut yourself a break.

Because in the moment, you were doing the best you could do.

You gave it your all because you were trying to be a good partner, a good friend, or a good employee. You believed in the relationship. You believed in the love.

You genuinely thought you were building something beautiful. You didn't want to tear it apart for uncertainty.

Maybe you stayed in something because you wanted or needed security for yourself or your family.

Maybe you didn't have a support system.

Maybe someone told you falsehoods, and you believed them because there was nobody else around to tell you differently.

Maybe you were just afraid.

But none of it was your fault, and the anger that you have for yourself isn't doing you any good. You did your best. You loved wholly and authentically. You did what you believed to be noble and good, because you are good.

And whatever shame you have about it, it's time to let that go and practice forgiveness.

I work on this daily.

Even now, sometimes I get caught in wanting to "write a long letter" and "tell him all the things he did wrong, all the words he said that made me feel like so much less," but then I remember that to do that takes away from my power.

If I did that, I'd just be angry that I gave away one more thing to someone who doesn't deserve it. I'd be angry that I told someone else that they have anything to do with how I feel, because that's complete bullshit. I am in charge here. It's me. I run this show.

That power, that amazing power, is yours. Walk away. Rise above.

You're a bright light.

In five years, you'll be thankful this happened the way it did.

If you enjoyed this article and want more of Andee, you can follow her on Instagram @_getthefuckoff or head to her website, getthefuckoff.com, and join her email list for an incredible weekly newsletter.