Tag Archives: anger

I’m a Napalm Bomb

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I’ve always had a temper.  The earliest memory I have was from childhood.  My step-sister was a year older than I and we were sent upstairs to our bedroom for some infraction or other.

First, my sister got smacked.  Pants down, bare-bottom, that was fairly typical for the time.   I don’t really recall how many she got.  Hard to focus when you’re on deck. Going last always ups the anxiety factor.

Then came my turn.   Same way.   Except I was angry.  This shouldn’t be happening, I thought. What could 7 and 8 year olds do exactly to warrant the hand, the belt, the flip flop or whatever the hell else was handy.  But I was going to get it.   So I had no choice.  It dawned on me though I couldn’t stop it from happening, but I could control HOW it happened….

As I was getting whaled on, I looked up and said, “that didn’t even hurt, why don’t you hit me harder.”  Oh hell no, did I just say that? My sister told me to shut up.

Of course that changed the tempo a bit and things moved faster and I got hit harder.  Then I said it again! I could see the veins popping in the sides of their neck, they were so furious.  I braced for it and then they finally quit.

After it was all said and done I felt vindicated.  I sat on my sore butt and remember thinking that although  my ass was red with handprints all over, I had been victorious because they didn’t make me cry.

************

I’ve grown older but apparently none the wiser.  These days it seems like most of my anger still comes out with fury and vitriol.   Especially so if the source of my irritation and anger is constant and unrelenting and out of my control.  Probably the latter which bothers me the most.

The noisy kid on a long flight that whines the whole way that I just want to bitch slap but would never.   The guy humming in line behind me to “Air Supply” so it gets stuck in my head.    The teen vaping weed in his car with his windows rolled down in front of me so his plume ends up inside my car so I smell like “Blue Dream”  for the rest of my day.

Oh and then there’s the road rage.    There was the time in downtown Boston where some dude cut me off.    He rolled down his window and called me a bitch.   So  I pulled along side his car I said “if you’re so tough why don’t you get out of your fucking car, and say that to my face you pussy.”  Yep, this has happened several times over the years.   I did get out of my car once.   Guy freaked when I knocked on his window.  Tough guy, just drove off when the light changed.

Then there’s this certain someone.   This person who has been making my life bloody hell for 6 long years.  I get so mad my blood boils just thinking about them.  I find myself thinking, “I’d like to keep them in a locker inside of a storage unit until they can behave.”   Oh if only it was legal and moral.

When I’m that angry,  I seem to see only red, think only red.  My focus becomes myopic.   At times I fail to care about  repercussions in that particular moment.  Depends on how angry I am.  Which has lead me over the years into some high risk behaviors.

I know in my heart I should probably talk to my new shrink about my anger issues.  I have never mentioned it before, might be important.    There’s only so much you can squeeze into a 50 minute session and your life is a 3 ring shit-show.

Two roads diverged in the wood; Bottle of Grape Vodka  vs.  hours of therapy….. 

 

 

 


Mother fucker

I am so fucking triggered tonight.

It is Thanksgiving Eve and I am is obsessed about him.

Where is he?  Who might he be with?  Is he out doing someone off Craigslist or is he

starting over with the new younger version of “Lexi” already.   Complete with 5 hour phone conversations

like he used to do with me that lasted til we both fell asleep til 5 am.

……oh Jesus Mary and Joseph….help me.

his heart is already dead, and mine……keeps right on beating.

~*~  ~*~  ~*~

In AA they have Al-ka-thons.

Don’t they have obsess-athons for me so I don’t think about him all night? It’s the mother fucking Holidays for fucks sake.

Everywhere you look people are holding hands and kissing and public displays of affection abound.

It feels like life is dousing vinegar into my gaping wound.  My heart is breaking into a million shards of glass.

Mother fucking fuck.

I HATE THIS SHIT !


Time For a Good Ole Book Burning on the Village Green

Shel Silverstein is hands down one of the best children’s authors ever.  I own just about everything he’s done in print; hard copy.   And I’m fairly certain that when my Zebra cake goggles wear off, the book will remain one of my favorites.

In light of the recent events of my train wreck love-life, I recently re-read “The Giving Tree.”

…..

…..

Can I just say that I HATE that tree.

“Take my apples.”

oh just plunder all my assets and leave me naked in the forest, boy.

“…you may cut off  my branches….”

Take a chain saw to my limbs and watch the sap run down as I bleed in agony….

“Cut down my trunk….”

Fuck me up the ass and leave me nothing but a stump for you to take a shit on…….

but I’ll still love you boy.

……

……

and then the tree waits and waits like a good empathic tree with no self-esteem does, and pretends to be happy being a used up stump.  and in the end ” the boy” comes back when he’s done using all the whores and he’s old and can’t fuck anymore and sits on the stump of a tree he’s used.   because she has no self-worth and wasted the best years of her life pining (no pun intended) for a boy who never loved her back.

The classic un-requited love story?

No, the classic romanticized portrayal of an EMPATH MARTYR-COMPLEX FUCKED UP WOMAN, POSING AS A TREE

I dunno, this post could be coming from a distorted perceptual lens  generated by marked glucose spikes from me consuming  a rather largish bag of M&M’s for lunch today and a couple of King-sized candy bars for dinner last night mixed with a Little Debbie Zebra cake.  It’s the Zebra Cake goggles isn’t it.  Or is it just another angry rant about getting conned by a sexual sadist narcissist with sociopathic tendencies.  Or do I just have an axe to grind with trees.

Someone either pass me the kerosene and a match or give me another fucking Zebra cake already.