Beneath Deep Waters Hides A Demon

There's something that I don't want to admit. Whenever something wonderful happens to a friend or family member it makes me angry. I want to fucking punch them in the face. A rage so full and complete overtakes me and I want to kill them or ruin their happiness.
I don't know how to deal with this. I assume it's because of the many horrid things that happened to me. The many "typical" events in my life that were kind of stained by shame or ugliness. My marriage, my pregnancies, the insignificant significant others in my life, the graduations that kind of happened, no sweet sixteen, no protecting role models, all the guideposts in life were warped and dingy, twisted parodies of the American Dream. See I can't complain because the poor children in Uganda didn't have complete families so my completely dysfunctional family was more than what they have. I wasn't born bereft so I have no rights to be angry.
The awesome thing is that I am. I don't give a shit about all the homeless waifs in China. I don't care about the starving Lithuanians. They are not my problem. I am my problem and this angry demon that lies in wait underneath my calm brain stirs the waters of sanity.