Feedback:
“Way too much emotion.”
”Can’t you just be a little funnier?”
”Must have a lot of time on your hands.”
:-|
Copy that. Here’s something that will brighten your day:
‘There’s a town called Don’t-You-Worry,
On the banks of River Smile;
Where the Cheer up and be Happy
Blossom sweetly all the while.
Where the never Grumble flower
Blooms beside the fragrant Try,
And the Ne’er-give up and Patience
Point their faces to the sky.
-Bartlett
This is from the book ‘The World’s Best Loved Poems’ which I liberated from the school library 1990. Despite the larceny, it remains one of my favorite poems.
For posterity:
My calm harshed, nay, obliterated, I become Jack’s raging bile. The night takes my fury and mania in stride in spite of my inflicted intensity.
The stars twinkle indifferent to my unleashed anger. The words flow like a great river disgorging my pent up tension and passion and nothing changes in the entirety of creation. Except the chemistry. Stimulation triggers the amygdala and shuts down my prefrontal cortex. Flooded with hormonal stimuli, my nervous system gets in on the party. Dopamine and norepinephrine are flush within me. Nerves tingling and muscles twitch. I want to break something. Make big things into little pieces
Though a shocking circumstance, I recognize it for what it is: something I experienced with great regularity as a child and young adult. Maturity has mostly worked as a check-valve to keep this caged. I do not know why tonight it attacks with such aggression. The only remedy is to discharge the energy in some constructive way. A run tires me quickly but tonight it goes on and on. How deep is this well?
Be angry, but do not sin, wise counsel. Think before you speak. Engage your brain before moving your mouth. All sage. Tonight, wisdom is foolishness to my brain sot with stormy neurotransmitters and the small glass portal to the universe becomes my mouth and body lashing out to those who listen. No doubt they are struck curious by the sudden change in topic and tone on what was a civil conversation between reasonable and modest adults. Likely they think, ‘who let the teenager into chat?’
So I run. Run. Run. Run. And Run.
Air is cold in my lungs and tears burn and mingle with sweat even in this cool early spring night. Every time my foot falls, the acrimony spills away, sloshing out of an overly full glass. The motion is good and gives me someplace to focus, to see past the reds and yellows that fill my vision. Slowly, bound by bound I can see more than just the frustration and violence. Slowly on the horizon, my storm begins to subside. The sun is setting and begins to shine under the clouds of hysterics that have darkened the night.
And so, I find myself here prone and played out. Anger and rage are like that. They launch you like a mortar shell and you arc through the sky burning with the intensity of a thousand suns, then finding your mark, destroy or damage everything within your reach. But, eventually the fire cools and the destruction is mitigated by those who care.
Sadly, it is usually not necessary to even load the weapon. But we are foolish, imperfect creatures.
God bless the patient ones.
And forgive all the rest.