Rage

One of the quickest ways to piss me off is to tell me to calm down. I admit I have a temper, but if I am just trying to make a point and I am told to calm down, especially by a man, when I haven’t really gone ballistic yet, he just made a bad decision; one I will not readily forget. Oh no, my memory may be getting iffy with age, but if you pissed me off it is etched in stone.

The whole “calming down” thing was said to me this week by someone I’ve been becoming rather passive with because this manner of speech has become increasingly the norm with him. It’s sort of like how my marriage became. People would ask me why I let him speak to me that way and I would be like, “What are you talking about?” I had become numb to the demeaning way in which I was being spoken to and of late, I find that I am doing it again. I suppose it’s a defense mechanism of sorts, if I tuck my head down and pretend like nothing has happened, I will survive to fight another day.

However, this time I took it to a new level. I actually thought for a moment that I had imagined the conversation. Today, I confirmed that I did not. You see, this happened in front of an audience, people who were actually paying attention, unlike myself. The question is, what am I going to do about it? For now, it is filed to be used at a later date, but if this same person were to utter those words to me again, I may scare the snot out of him by saying in a completely calm tone, “I need to calm down? No, I’m just getting started.”

I was once accused of yelling at someone to which I replied, “If I actually yelled at them, all that would be left of them is a puddle of snot on the floor.” Yes, I can be rather dramatic. I have a theatrical background, so I have a strong voice that I can project for miles. I’m big and strong, that alone intimidates folks, but what they don’t realize is that my bark is worse than my bite. I strike with my words, not my fists. Even better, I’m stealth and I will find the right moment to say the right thing to the right person and sit back and watch the dominoes fall.

Don’t get me wrong, I do yell, but I do most of my yelling in the car. Yes, that’s right, I am the Queen of Road Rage. Did you ever see the scene in Fried Green Tomatoes where Kathy Bates is repeatedly ramming her car into the car of the girl who took her parking spot? Multiply that by ten and you’ll begin to understand me and how my kids got to be the Princes of Road Rage. At one point, I realized I was swearing too much in the car and so I came up with a code. Instead of saying, “You Cock Sucking Bastard!” I started saying, “You CSB!”

I told this story to John, “The Pilot”. One day while at the zoo I sent him a text message saying that the bears and elephants say hello. He responded by writing, “Tell them I say hello back, but not the giraffes, they’re a bunch of CSBs!” I was like, what did a giraffe ever do to you, but from that point on I started yelling out, “You’re a Giraffe!”

I’m finding more and more ways to relieve this pent up anger of mine. Music is an excellent source of relief. I can belt out a song like nobody’s business and now that we all have these nifty phones, I can belt out a tune in the car and nobody thinks any less of me for doing so. I could just be in the middle of a heated discussion for all they know. There are so many great songs to choose from, but of late I am enjoying Natural by Imagine Dragons. Recently, I was driving with my brother when it qued up on my music, I cranked that bitch and sang at the top of my lungs. My brother just sat there dumbfounded….YES!!!!

Another means of relief for me has been exercise. How did I get into rowing? Did you ever see a little series called House of Cards? I haven’t broken the strap on mine yet, but I can go to town on that machine. Another great form of stress relief is a punching bag. I had one back in the day, but I broke it and I plan on getting another one soon. I had one when I was doing daycare. It was in the basement and my Dad would ask, “What are you doing down there?” to which I would reply, “Not killing a child!” A punching bag is magical; it can be anyone, anything you want it to be and you can pummel it without doing any real harm, except to maybe yourself.

Sex. Yes, angry sex is very rewarding. Enough said.

I’m not into these, but I’m certain video games are a great outlet for rage. Once again, you can create your character and go to town wreaking havoc on the world. I don’t know from experience, but I do recall watching my son play. It was amazing to watch how he would move around, holding the controls above his head, side to side like he was actually fighting someone with his moves. I did play a game…once. My kids were young and I wanted to bond with them. I had no idea what I was doing and I was hitting the buttons at random with some fighting game. At one point I asked, “Which guy am I again?” to which my son responded in a despondent tone, “The one that just won.” Cool.

Art: writing, drawing, painting, singing, dancing, you name it. Any form of art is a great release for rage, as well as love, fear, sadness, and glee. However, rage is an especially great muse to play with. Right now, I’m typing faster than I can think up this stuff *silent laugh, as she tilts her head back as to mock the gods*.

Something else I consider an art form: sports. Someone who is good at sports is an artist in their own right. It may not be to music, but they are dancing, moving, or better yet, driving really fast with laser like precision. I think it would be amazing to drive a sports car! However, I do not have the skills so I will settle for being the passenger. My brother did take me on a motorcycle ride… once. It was the last day he owned one and I was scared out of my mind, but when he did a wheelie…what a rush! These days, I’m too concerned about the fines and all, so I keep it closer to the speed limit than not, but back in the day, when I owned an 8 cylinder car…I got one speeding ticket in my life, but it was worth it!

So, what am I so angry about that I need to vent in all these different manners? Life in general is becoming increasingly challenging. Work, family, friends, work, lovers, society, did I mention work? More than anything, I’m angry at myself. I’m angry at myself for not taking the chances that I should have, for not saying the things I should have at the moment I should have. Fuck. Don’t get me wrong, I have taken a lot of crazy chances in my life in the name of wanting to try something new, to break the mold and be someone different, but I still feel like I am not living the life I am supposed to. Fuck. Rage.

Yep, I am pissed off at myself for not being who I thought I would be by now. At this stage of my life, the clock is ticking faster and faster with each passing day and that pisses me off. I do all that is expected of me and more, but there is so much more I could be, if I could just figure out how to get there. For years I’ve been saying, it’s right there, just out of reach, out of focus, but it’s there, the something I am supposed to be doing. If I could just put the pieces of the puzzle together faster, move the tiles and make the image that I am supposed to see. I get so angry at myself, the rage grows when I feel like I am being less than what I should be.

Then, the old familiar recording begins to play. “You should be grateful, how dare you ask for more. You have food, clothing and shelter. How dare you ask for more.” Tick, tick, tick I’m running out of time. I want more!

RAGE!!!

#thelieswechoosetolivewith