Can we discuss anger for a second? I am not sure what it is. Don’t get me wrong, I have lost my temper, got mad at other drivers and slammed a door or two. What is anger? Is it chemical? Ethereal? Does it turn my skin green? I have been told, on more than one occasion that my eyes flash emerald when I am furious. I would like to see this phenomenon.
Let’s not get off track. Anger is our topic. Is it physiological? Are there neurotransmitters that race around? Is it necessary to cry? Sweat? How come there are times when something happens I should be mad about, and I don’t get mad at all? Like when my mailbox had a M80 shoved inside it, leaving devastation and plastic shards all around. My green reflective sign sitting officiously on top of a piece of black jagged edged plastic about 5 inches across. I was expecting money that day. Instead-I was the victim of collateral damage from a random stranger with fireworks. I laughed. I thought it was funny. I actually had a mental image of an Arthur Fonzerelli with fast hands opening and closing my mailbox out a car window. The car black and shiny despite the dust cloud surrounding it, speeding down my road, growling like a thing from a Stephen King novel. The Fonz, is head out the car window, howling at the moon, his DA perfectly shiny and also untouched by dust.
Apparently, I got off the topic again. I have a tendency to do that. Anger? What could that be? I have no idea. I don’t want to know. Flip off the other driver, yell at the windshield. After all, he can’t hear me, and I get to yell a primal yell. I have gotten so mad, and tried to stuff it so deep and stay in control, that I cry. And then I am mad because I am crying, but that’s okay, I am mad at me that way. Getting mad at someone else, and telling them I am angry is not a feminine thing to do. And when I get mad, I am a little girl, in a dress, being laughed at for looking like an awkward little girl in a dress.
Perhaps Control is what we should be discussing…or, maybe we should revisit anger. What is Anger?