What is the difference between anger and rage?

“You are a child. You are not allowed to be angry!”

I heard that a lot.

So, I don’t feel anger. I learned to push it down, to pack it into neat little boxes at the back of my mind.

But the boxes don’t stay quiet. Inside, it’s a storm—growing bigger and wilder, like the typhoons in the Philippines.

I don’t feel angry—I get a bad stomach, I vomit, I have seizures. The anger stays hidden, but my body knows it’s there.

And when the boxes get too full, it’s no longer anger. It’s rage, and rage has a name. She is Fury.

Fury is my protector. When she comes out, there’s going to be trouble. 😈

What/who are survivors angry about/with?

I am angry about the consequences of what those people did.

To overcome my dignity and self-respect, they broke my mind. They didn’t just hurt me; they shattered me into pieces. Each piece became a little version of me, created to serve their needs.

Each one was designed with a purpose: to please, to obey, to endure. They made us into little compliant robots in meatsuits, stripped of thought, will, and emotion—except for total devotion and obedience to them.

I call them the Zombie Kids. They weren’t really alive. They didn’t laugh, cry, or dream. They just existed, moving through the world as if they were puppets controlled by strings.

And I’m angry—not just for myself but for them. For all the versions of me that never got to be kids, that never got to feel safe, free, or whole. They were stolen from me, and I am still fighting to bring them back.

How does a survivor channel/process their anger and rage? (both good and bad?)

I don’t feel anger—not in the usual way. Instead, it hides in my body, showing up as pain, sickness, or emptiness.

The emptiness is the worst. It’s not the soothing kind of quiet darkness, the one that feels safe and comforting. No, this is an abyss, a black hole inside me that feels like it’s pulling my insides out—my stomach, my lungs, my heart, everything. It’s the kind of emptiness that whispers death as the only relief.

My Inner Fam helps me. A soft word, a gentle “love you,” echoes in my mind. The other kids gather around me, offering what comfort they can.

Sometimes, their love can’t pull me out. But they stay with me anyway, sitting beside me in my little corner of hell. In those moments, it feels like a Dark Angel wraps its wings around me, holding me close, protecting me from the worst of it. Even in the abyss, I know I’m not alone.

And when it’s too much—when the darkness threatens to swallow me whole—Fury steps in. She is strong, fearsome, and unyielding. She used to be only brutal, a wild force of rage, but now she’s learning. She’s becoming smarter, more precise. Fury fends off the dangers I can’t face alone.

So, I process my anger and rage with help—from my Fam, from Fury, and sometimes just by enduring. And while it isn’t always pretty, it’s how I survive.

What does a survivor’s anger/rage look or feel like, how does it sit in your body?

For me, anger doesn’t come as a feeling—it’s a sensation that takes over my body. It starts as a rumble deep in my tummy, like something waking up. Then it spreads, like mutant liquid flowing through my veins. It doesn’t have a temperature, but it vibrates—electric and alive—making my whole body shake.

Sometimes, it feels like my bones are made of ice, cold and fragile, as if they could crack under the pressure. Other times, when it reaches my brain, it burns like fire.

As it grows, there’s a tight circle around the crown of my head. It squeezes tighter and tighter, and my brain starts to feel like jelly, simmering on a fire like custard in a pot. The pressure builds until it explodes, and that’s when I faint or have a seizure.

The speed of it changes. If I faint, my brain resets, and everything slows down for a while. But if the sensation keeps spreading, it accelerates, gaining momentum until it feels like I might burst.

Fury, my protector, holds my rage. She rarely comes to the campfire, but when she does, she’s sharp and clever, like Wednesday Addams—darkly funny and intense. When she’s angry, though, she stays with the other Furies, and the rage just grows and grows.