Birth of Anger
Think about the last time you got angry. Try to remember the circumstances surrounding that moment. Were you in your car, your house, the office? How did the air feel on your skin at the time: hot and prickly through the window, breezy and cool, thick and stifling? Recall the smells at the time. Could you smell your own anger? What did it smell like?
What was it that at first made you irritated? Irritation is the seed of anger. Some coworker put down your idea. The vending machine ate your quarters. Maybe you got cut off on the highway by some young punk in a modified Honda. You made a snide mutter about his after-market bumper and incongruous chrome hubcaps. You felt superior for a second but your stomach still have some leftover angry butterflies. Later you will go home with a headache, and upon entering the door make a beeline for the bathroom, seeking out the aspirin in the medicine cabinet. Your answer to your wife's earnest question of "How was your day?" breaks her heart with its flat, wooden indifference. Her happiness only irritates you more; why can't she be miserable like you? Her well-meaning attempt at affection only burns you more, and you sulk off to bed, angry at the world, but letting your wife bear the brunt. She will wonder what she did wrong, and you won't bother to assure her that its nothing.
Did your significant other do something to annoy you? Annoyance can also lead to anger; annoyance is the Chinese water torture that leads to full-blown rage. Your wife's laugh when her attractive, single coworker compliments her hair. Your boyfriend's tendency not to call when he says he will. Your child interrupted you for the fifth time while you tried talking on the phone to your mother, saying "Mommy mommy mommy!" over and over like a sped-up record.
You were annoyed the first time, and the more you stewed in your annoyance the more justified your anger became. Why can't that person just realize how much they are annoying you, and then stop? Their ignorance fuels that hot, blue flame.
Did your face show anger? Perhaps it got red, or your nostrils flared. You may have a vein on your forehead that only shows itself in fury. Your mouth loses its lips and your tongue forms a point on the back of your teeth, which are both clenched in pent-up frustration but also ready to let loose with a barrage of words that you could never imagine saying to the one you love. If you saw a picture of yourself, would you recognize yourself? In a photo album, would you say "Here I am on vacation in New York; here's my 25th birthday cake; and here I am in the throes of anger." Rate yourself on a scale of 1-10, based on how beautiful you look when you are angry. Rate yourself on the same scale, based on how beautiful you felt.
Anger, like most emotions, has a peak. At what point did that anger peak? Was it with a shout, a slap, a word that should never be repeated? Did you cry, laugh, or sit silent and stunned at your own primal rage. Recall how the other emotions began mingling with your waning anger. Evaluate the levels of relief, of remorse, of regret. Did your anger solve a problem, or create a new one? Did it bring you and your loved one closer together, or drive you apart? Are you better off today now that you were angry than yesterday, when you laughed? Have you done something that you are sure can be un-done? Have you done something that you are certain can not?
Now you attempt reconciliation, or perhaps you do not. You buy flowers, you give space, you engage in sexual activity in an attempt to refocus that incredible energy. You vow revenge, you hold a grudge, you withhold affection purposefully. Pacificiation, or passive aggression? You watch the clock and the calendar and the memory of the anger fades away. You laugh again and you smile goofily. You hug and you kiss. You forgive, and try to forget. Only maybe you shouldn't forget, so as to make it easier to forgive when inevitably, you find yourself once again a furious human being.
What was it that at first made you irritated? Irritation is the seed of anger. Some coworker put down your idea. The vending machine ate your quarters. Maybe you got cut off on the highway by some young punk in a modified Honda. You made a snide mutter about his after-market bumper and incongruous chrome hubcaps. You felt superior for a second but your stomach still have some leftover angry butterflies. Later you will go home with a headache, and upon entering the door make a beeline for the bathroom, seeking out the aspirin in the medicine cabinet. Your answer to your wife's earnest question of "How was your day?" breaks her heart with its flat, wooden indifference. Her happiness only irritates you more; why can't she be miserable like you? Her well-meaning attempt at affection only burns you more, and you sulk off to bed, angry at the world, but letting your wife bear the brunt. She will wonder what she did wrong, and you won't bother to assure her that its nothing.
Did your significant other do something to annoy you? Annoyance can also lead to anger; annoyance is the Chinese water torture that leads to full-blown rage. Your wife's laugh when her attractive, single coworker compliments her hair. Your boyfriend's tendency not to call when he says he will. Your child interrupted you for the fifth time while you tried talking on the phone to your mother, saying "Mommy mommy mommy!" over and over like a sped-up record.
You were annoyed the first time, and the more you stewed in your annoyance the more justified your anger became. Why can't that person just realize how much they are annoying you, and then stop? Their ignorance fuels that hot, blue flame.
Did your face show anger? Perhaps it got red, or your nostrils flared. You may have a vein on your forehead that only shows itself in fury. Your mouth loses its lips and your tongue forms a point on the back of your teeth, which are both clenched in pent-up frustration but also ready to let loose with a barrage of words that you could never imagine saying to the one you love. If you saw a picture of yourself, would you recognize yourself? In a photo album, would you say "Here I am on vacation in New York; here's my 25th birthday cake; and here I am in the throes of anger." Rate yourself on a scale of 1-10, based on how beautiful you look when you are angry. Rate yourself on the same scale, based on how beautiful you felt.
Anger, like most emotions, has a peak. At what point did that anger peak? Was it with a shout, a slap, a word that should never be repeated? Did you cry, laugh, or sit silent and stunned at your own primal rage. Recall how the other emotions began mingling with your waning anger. Evaluate the levels of relief, of remorse, of regret. Did your anger solve a problem, or create a new one? Did it bring you and your loved one closer together, or drive you apart? Are you better off today now that you were angry than yesterday, when you laughed? Have you done something that you are sure can be un-done? Have you done something that you are certain can not?
Now you attempt reconciliation, or perhaps you do not. You buy flowers, you give space, you engage in sexual activity in an attempt to refocus that incredible energy. You vow revenge, you hold a grudge, you withhold affection purposefully. Pacificiation, or passive aggression? You watch the clock and the calendar and the memory of the anger fades away. You laugh again and you smile goofily. You hug and you kiss. You forgive, and try to forget. Only maybe you shouldn't forget, so as to make it easier to forgive when inevitably, you find yourself once again a furious human being.
posted by The Semi-Pro Chef at Saturday, June 25, 2005
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