Every time I get angry I don't necessarily have a grand reaction. Sometimes I swat the anger off, sometimes I let it ride and vent my spleen and sometimes I raise holy hell.
There is anger and there is anger. One learns to sift and sort through the emotion while it is sweeping through oneself and lets oneself react accordingly.
There are the myriad pesky irritants like the idiots who cannot read the rules on Facebook groups and flout them without a thought, there is that ever present damp towel left behind on the bed or the dirty teaspoon perched on the coffee canister, the witless tele-caller who disturbs people at 3.40pm on a Sunday.
Then there are those moments - you're in the middle of cooking and you reach into the basket and find there are no onions, or even worse - no potatoes. That's when I want to wring the cook's neck. I really do. Nothing sets me off like finding empty space where there should be kitchen staples. Or finding water bottles in the refrigerator with barely half a cup of water in the bottle. What sense does it make to put back a bottle that's 80% empty?!
Then there is rage on social media. Nothing pisses me off more than empty pontificating. I'm with Aunty Acid. I rather be potty mouthed and honest than a social media hypocrite. I usually compose nasty comments in my head in response to these wannabe saints and philosophers but just once in a rare way I take them on. That usually ends with me being unfriended by the aggrieved party. That's perfectly fine with me.
Sometimes I feel pure unadulterated rage. Usually it is K and me having some stupid argument and I have worked myself up into a fine steam and am literally frothing at the mouth, blowing steam from my nostrils. Such episodes happen with my mom too, with predictable regularity.
One day, many years ago, K and I were in the middle of a massive argument and right there, right in the middle of it, when I was fully wound up, screaming with rage and frustration, he coolly turned his back on me and began to read whatever book he was currently in the middle of. No, he wasn't pretending or trying to read. He was REALLY reading.
Who does that?! How can one even manage to do that?! I don't think I have ever been that angry again - I was already in a raging fury and his sticking his face in a book and successfully ignoring me nearly drove me insane! I had to do something. I needed to do something drastic. I was desperate. I didn't know what I wanted to do but I needed to vent my anger and fury.
Tucked under the cupboard I spied these two ceramic platters that my mother had sneakily bought and then left behind in my house. (I'd told her not to buy them, and definitely not for me, they were hideous). I yanked the platters out, told K what I was about to do and calmly smashed the platters on the floor. He didn't even flinch. (The man is abnormal. Really, he is)
Ooooh the feeling of satisfaction that swept over me! It was simply wonderful! The sharp, tight sound as the platter crashed onto the floor and sublimely shattered into a zillion pieces... well, about 20 really, but it sure felt like a zillion.
I let out a deep long breath and I was in the zone. Peace prevailed. The world was beautiful again. K and I drove off to a wonderful weekend at Murud :)
Now I always have some plate, cup, platter, jug.. anything really that I know I can reach for Every time I Get Angry. Really Angry.
This post is part of the Marathon Bloggers December Blogathon. The prompt for the day is "Every Time I Get Angry..."
6 December
Marathon Bloggers
There is anger and there is anger. One learns to sift and sort through the emotion while it is sweeping through oneself and lets oneself react accordingly.
There are the myriad pesky irritants like the idiots who cannot read the rules on Facebook groups and flout them without a thought, there is that ever present damp towel left behind on the bed or the dirty teaspoon perched on the coffee canister, the witless tele-caller who disturbs people at 3.40pm on a Sunday.
Then there are those moments - you're in the middle of cooking and you reach into the basket and find there are no onions, or even worse - no potatoes. That's when I want to wring the cook's neck. I really do. Nothing sets me off like finding empty space where there should be kitchen staples. Or finding water bottles in the refrigerator with barely half a cup of water in the bottle. What sense does it make to put back a bottle that's 80% empty?!
Then there is rage on social media. Nothing pisses me off more than empty pontificating. I'm with Aunty Acid. I rather be potty mouthed and honest than a social media hypocrite. I usually compose nasty comments in my head in response to these wannabe saints and philosophers but just once in a rare way I take them on. That usually ends with me being unfriended by the aggrieved party. That's perfectly fine with me.
Sometimes I feel pure unadulterated rage. Usually it is K and me having some stupid argument and I have worked myself up into a fine steam and am literally frothing at the mouth, blowing steam from my nostrils. Such episodes happen with my mom too, with predictable regularity.
One day, many years ago, K and I were in the middle of a massive argument and right there, right in the middle of it, when I was fully wound up, screaming with rage and frustration, he coolly turned his back on me and began to read whatever book he was currently in the middle of. No, he wasn't pretending or trying to read. He was REALLY reading.
Who does that?! How can one even manage to do that?! I don't think I have ever been that angry again - I was already in a raging fury and his sticking his face in a book and successfully ignoring me nearly drove me insane! I had to do something. I needed to do something drastic. I was desperate. I didn't know what I wanted to do but I needed to vent my anger and fury.
Tucked under the cupboard I spied these two ceramic platters that my mother had sneakily bought and then left behind in my house. (I'd told her not to buy them, and definitely not for me, they were hideous). I yanked the platters out, told K what I was about to do and calmly smashed the platters on the floor. He didn't even flinch. (The man is abnormal. Really, he is)
Ooooh the feeling of satisfaction that swept over me! It was simply wonderful! The sharp, tight sound as the platter crashed onto the floor and sublimely shattered into a zillion pieces... well, about 20 really, but it sure felt like a zillion.
I let out a deep long breath and I was in the zone. Peace prevailed. The world was beautiful again. K and I drove off to a wonderful weekend at Murud :)
Now I always have some plate, cup, platter, jug.. anything really that I know I can reach for Every time I Get Angry. Really Angry.
This post is part of the Marathon Bloggers December Blogathon. The prompt for the day is "Every Time I Get Angry..."
6 December
Marathon Bloggers
4 comments:
Haha, now when I am philosophical on FB will remember u!
Rhea... your post made me smile. You put several of my own reactions to anger in words... something I can't really do :-)
I love the smashing idea! What a great way of releasing that pent up anger.. long neglected crockery here I come!
Que sera sera ... whatever :P
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