I find it interesting that when I want to have an angry outburst there is no one to outburst to. The stressors of work, fatigue, hunger, anything that puts me on edge and causes me to want to express that frustration to someone – no one is there. It is then that I realize I am my own family unit. I am my own spouse, my own parent, my own child. Because those family roles have not materialized in front of me I become them to myself. I need to be self-sufficient, my own source of self-soothing and nurture because I don’t have the safety net of the nuclear family to fall back on. I am my own nuclear family. 

Really it’s a mercy I have no one to take my anger out on, because then the issue can come to an abrupt halt with just me, and no one else has to suffer for it. Perhaps you can call it the high road, the transcendent path that leads me to my most enlightened self. I hate it and love it at the same time. My solitary state has prevented the suffering of others and forced me to come to terms with my own suffering, and to take responsibility for my own healing. Oh it hurts. And I hope it’s not all meaningless.