One thing I hated most in those days was losing my work. It basically drove me crazy with fury. I used to look for things to destroy when I got angry. Getting angry made me want to hit something. I would long for the satisfying sound of glass shattering or a spoon hitting the wall with such force it rebounded to my feet. Or a mop stick breaking into tiny pieces when I smacked it against a wall. It was incredibly refreshing. If I didn’t however, I would end up in tears. So when I couldn’t find a venue for destruction I would volunteer myself. Sometimes I would cut myself and watch the blood lazily flow or I would ram my fist into the wall so hard my fingers would turn green afterwards. It was hard living in that family and working. I would stare at the ceiling in rage sometimes. Too incensed to trust myself to do anything else. Anger never left me easily. It was something that tested my personality much later…….