A Rage Supreme (yes, that's a Coltrane reference)

September 15, 2019

Stormy weather a-brewin' on the forecast ahead. Visitors be on your guard. The animals on this tour bite.

 

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Anger. It's a struggle for me. It's something I don't have a handle on.

 

I'm a quiet angry person. I simmer. I steep. I come to a boil with a little hiss. My anger sneaks up like a viper & strikes lightning quick with a venomous zing. You won't know it's coming... until it's too late.

 

I never know when the final straw is next. That's the danger. That's the thing I can't control. They say it's like flipping a switch. They say it because that's exactly what it's like. It's a very sudden, unanticipated, drastic change from light to dark.

 

I don't see red. I see black. Because I don't see at all. All I have is my anger. It's the only thing that's important to me. It's my only reason for existing. It's my whole world for as long as it takes for the fire to burn to a charred landscape of whatever the hour, day or week had in store. Yes, sometimes my anger burns for a week. It can burn even longer than that. It feeds on me like a parasite. It sucks me dry. And somehow it also energizes me. Every muscle in my body is flexed at the same time. I sweat buckets. I bite the inside of my cheeks until they're bruised. I actually get sore from clenching my teeth. Every breath is deep & determined. My mind is sharp as a knife. I can cut into any scenario- any conversation- any phrase. Give me a single word & I'll slice it into a thousand pieces. I struggle to express myself clearly most of the time. But not when I'm angry. When I'm angry, I speak faster, yet every thing I say is chosen most carefully & efficiently. And all of this just automatically reinforces my reasoning. I can't even hear the other person in the room saying “calm down” because I'm so focused. I'm so zeroed in on my dilemma. My anger is like the climax of an opera. A note that is held until the drumroll. And it takes no effort from me. None. It's like a power surge. An abundance. An overflow. A catastrophic laser beam of fury.

 

Almost no one is prepared to deal with me when I am angry. I've been told how frightening it is. Even by complete strangers. Does that flatter me? In an evil way, yes. Yes it does. I may have cackled once.

 

It's almost laughable if someone tries to interfere with me when I am angry. Amateurs. My advice? Move aside. Avoid me like the plaque. Cower before me. Tread lightly. If you're daft enough to ask me “what's wrong?”, not only are you making a huge mistake, you are putting yourself directly in harm's way.

 

Someone once told me to just try not to be angry. I laughed at her. She didn't understand.

 

I'm a productive angry person at least. The house has never been so clean. The closet has never been so organized. The dust doesn't have a prayer. I'm relentless with spots, stains, scratches & smudges. The weird screw that always comes loose? Not anymore, b*tch. That crooked picture frame? That untucked flap? That stray thread? TOAST.

 

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I say all this in jest because I know I have a problem. Part of me enjoys how scary I can be. Part of me loves that I have a reputation for being formidable. Part of me giggles when a good friend tells me that they thought I despised them when we first met. Because it is funny. To me anyway. But I'm getting off track...

 

I'm not looking for opinions, advice, solutions, counseling or prayers by the way. Those things, when I haven't asked for them, yep, you guessed it- they make me angry.

 

So why am I talking about this? Good question.

 

When I began this post, I was LIVID. A piece of information floated my direction &... KABOOM. It took about 5 minutes for me to be in full beast-mode- pacing around the house, arguing my case against, preparing for battle & repeating mantras to myself (with a side of profanity, indigestion & wickedly precise dish washer loading). And here I am hours later. I'm cool as a cat. When this kaboom-inducing piece of information goes into effect, I have my strategy for dealing with the sh*tstorm (and it doesn't involve the cold shoulder). I took my problem & I did something with it & I hope it made you laugh. But mostly I've discovered that writing can be an antidote for my anger. It's a target for me to aim the flaming arrow at. That's something, isn't it? So maybe I'll always have a quick & volatile temper. I can live with that. This is how I live with that. This & my new swivel head vacuum.

 

 

 

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