On Anger

 What's tickling my ears: The Offspring-- Self Esteem


I'm a pretty mellow person.

 I don't break things, or call people names.

 I don't throw tantrums, because yes, even adults throw tantrums--I've seen many a grown man rival the Munchkin when 'upset'.

It takes a lot for me to get riled, but it hasn't always been that way.

When I was younger I always knew I'd inherited a few things from my father: My grey eyes, the inability to deal with the stupidity of most people, and a temper to rival a dictator of a third world country.

 It's possible at one time or another in my youth, we'd both been confused with Hitler when angry.

Time, education, self control, and emotional growth--or maybe just distance from my hometown-- have calmed my angry impulses, and have kept me out of the arms of anger management classes.

In fact: I hate fighting, and I hate altercations.

I'm not abusive, nor am I interested in making people feel small.

Tears are my weakness.

Not mine--others'.

They tear me apart.

But, I digress.

Even though I don't get angry often, there are times when enough becomes enough, and the mellow woman meekly recedes. The temper we spoke of earlier fights to the surface, and all those hard earned years of control strain to a breaking point.

It's days like that--like today-- when I feel gross inside.

If you've ever seen the movie Fern Gully the Last Rainforest you'll remember the antagonist was an oily, gloopy, shapeless mass of evil slithering around.

His name was Nexus, and I'm pretty sure he's renting space inside my body.

Probably not something an author looking to get herself published should be setting free on the internet, but it's who I am.

I'm a real person.

I have feelings, emotions, and plenty of issues to open a Magazine company.

I'm not usually good with sharing my feelings, and by the time I'm ready to, Nexus is redecorating my heart and soul-- and it's possible black tendrils are snaking out from around me.

What might be worse than having a nasty, oily villain co-oping my body...

Knowing even the men I've created in my worlds aren't good enough to get me free.

Have no fear. Tomorrow will be another day, Nexus will be evicted, his keys confiscated, and his mug shot hung up in the security office.

I'll be happy again, the streets will be made of gumdrops and lined with lollipop trees, and the sky will be dotted with marshmallow clouds... and men--real and fictional will no longer be on my shit list.






What do you do to combat your own Nexus?
Would love to hear.

R.S.