Saturday, January 10, 2009

Anger Management

I've been irritable and angry all day. I sped up to around 70 mph and passed two cars at once on a two-lane road. Normal driving behavior for some, not for me. I was walking around earlier today thinking, "I really need some sort of individualized, violent contact sport to get involved in." (No team sports for me, else rugby or hockey would be fine - I've had poor experiences with team sports, mainly because I'm so not athletic, so unsure and afraid of making a fool of myself, which because of the inexperience and fear I usually do, and others get impatient with me.) If only I had the money or access otherwise to take up boxing or karate or, I don't know, UFC cage fighting, plus the courage to actually get popped one, to get hurt in exchange for hurting others. I just want to punch/throw/crash something, not necessarily engage with an adversary who could give as well as they get (or better). I want to do the beating, not get beaten up. I'm already beat up enough. I want some power. I think I might need anger management.

Others (okay, two people...so far) have remarked upon a seething I have underneath the surface that is eventually going to blow. I love the idea of revenge (especially in movies like Kill Bill and The Brave One, or that one scene in A Christmas Story where Ralphie beats up the bully), I see no problem with the idea of being bitter if you have something to be bitter about, and, to me, holding a grudge seems like a perfectly reasonable thing to do. Most of the time, I think I conceal my anger exceedingly well, in fact, out of a fear of rejection and abandonment, or because I feel that I am not entitled to be angry, I often refuse to directly say or even hint that I am angry - the best I can usually muster is a silent treatment. Perhaps this is dysfunction. The one person I have never had a problem showing my anger toward, however, is my mother - this evening my irritability culminated in a fit of aggression/rage directed at my mom and I scared myself.

I don't know what is going on. I don't know of this is mental illness or a character flaw, or both.

What's wrong with me?

2 comments:

hamilcar barca said...

you might want to give racquetball a try. you can smack the ball as hard as you can, and if you're playing inside, no matter what happens, you don't have very far to go to pick the ball up.

and if taking it out on the ball isn't enough, you can also get away with smacking it into the posterior of whoever you're playing. very therapeutic. ;-)

Amber said...

HA! that would be fun. thanks for the laugh.