Schrödinger's cat o' nine tails — 7 months ago
It’s a cat I don’t want to let out of the bag. A cat that should be boxed up like a keg of gunpowder and placed on a high shelf somewhere quiet.
I don’t like it, although it takes a lot to provoke. But when there’s a lack of sleep, an abundance of stress, a migraine on the horizon, a toddler screaming bloody murder, my sugar’s low and the neighbours are prodding at my tolerance like Chinese water torture, I can lose my reins.
My anger-monster tends to manifest in the form of things like clenched fists, foul language and the banging of doors. I don’t totally lose control (although I wouldn’t want to revisit my teenage years) but I don’t like the path of thinking it sends me down and I don’t like the way it makes me behave. I don’t like the drama stick it wields or the way it can slither it’s claws up my backside like an evil ventriloquist.
It’s a rare thing, but I’d like to avoid it completely (unless necessary – I don’t want to repress healthy, productive anger, just unhealthy, stupid, pointless rage that serves no purpose).
I think examining it further would be a good thing.
