Destroying the Walls

When i was younger-12,13,14,15- and my parents yelled at me, I would go to my room and rip all of my pictures and posters off my walls. They would scream at me and lecture me and send me to my room. And I would tear everything down.
The psychology behind that behavior seems obvious to me. I remember that I wasn't allowed to talk back or yell or get upset. Or cry. I always hated that most of all-when they yelled at me to stop crying. It's mindless and thoughtless really. (Dad, you were only making it worse.)
It's interesting that I still do that. Destroying the walls. My favorite pieces of art. Delicate items I had painstakingly spent hours collecting and arranging. Memorabilia. Photos of friends. Cool shit from magazines. (Mostly Gavin Rossdale-ha. what a dork. shut up I was 12.) These things were important to me-a creative outlet. Ruined.
I just got in a little bit of trouble at work. Really nothing. Nobody even said anything to me, I just felt like an idiot. Immediately, my heart burned. When I was finally alone at my desk, I instinctively began cleaning out my desk. Erasing myself. Then, before I even realized why I was doing it, I cleaned out my email's Inbox AND my "Friends" folder. When I am done writing this, I will probably empty out my "favorites" folder and all my bookmarks. I might copy them by hand first. (to be honest, I think i am getting a new computer in a few days.)
Wow. This explains A LOT.
You can't expect to "be" with anybody...to have long, meaningful relationships when your MO is self-sacrifice.
"Sit on the couch. Say OK and nothing else. Don't explain-it doesnt matter."
And it doesn't.