I recommend certain martial arts and boxing classes for getting out anger. Punching a big bag is GOOD TIMES.

In one of our neighboring towns, I recently discovered that my favorite barista is also a krav maga instructor. The SO's therapist is in that town, so I joked that we'd go there and he could do talk therepy and I could hit people and we'd both come out happier.

Timelies all!

Spring seems to have arrived here. After a foggy morning, the sun is shining and it's warm(well, 50s, but I'll take that). I'm still giving March the side-eye for all the snow.

Some days I want to go to a flea market and buy old dishes for change, so I could smash them, but I would have to clean them up, which seems less cathartic.

I was pretty much the one who taught my family how to get angry and survive it. Before that, it was you never express anger to each other, and you never even directly address the source of your anger (talking to other people instead), but there was a whole lot of flipping the bird at other drivers or railing at the IRS or whatever.

Signed, Also Has Much Anger

My sister and I acrapped a lot when we were kids, but it was...scrapping. I never really saw my dad angry -- he'd get PISSED, sure, but even when he was drunk (and he was a drunk until I was 10) he was a happy drunk.

I get pissy about stuff, and snark and gripe, make grandeloquent threats leavened with humor, but I just don't get angry very often. Because it's UG.LY. It's not fiery or loud, it's cold, cold evil anger that wants to hurt people because it's pleasurable. I say soul-destroying shit, but I never allow myself to touch people when I'm angry because I really fear I might actual kill someone. I've only gotten that enraged 3 times in my life, and each time,it was someone fucking with my family.

I'm very good about feeling myself level up to fury and telling people to walk away from me and leave me the fuck alone to ratchet myself down. I can tell what's frustration or hurt, and deal with that appropriately, for the most part, and I get frustrated by people who can't do the same. That's not fair, I know, but I'm all "If I turn into Satan's worst child when I'm truly angry, and I can turn around and walk out the door, then when you flip the fuck out about socks on the floor, I kinda want to hit you with a toaster."

I mean, I get it. Frustration sucks. Losing your shit can feel really good. But being around people who are flipping the hell out about petty, small shit just makes me so uncomfortable -- I mean, it never makes anything better and I cannot, CANNOT stand people who do this around kids. One of the reasons I cannot stand my husband's ex is that she is so angry and mean and bitter around her kids ALL THE TIME. The one time I stayed at her house, she and her current husband were so nasty to each other, in front of me, and the kids, and I was just so flabbergasted. She goes on and on about vitamins and prattles on about whether we let M have an occasional Coke or watch TV too much, yet he lives all the time with this fear of his mom flipping into a rage-mammal? All the quinoa in the world won't fix that.

Hubby has been spreading the gospel of Grouping Therapy to his tribe of chemo patients, ie, going to the shooting range and making loud noises, as a way to cope with the frustrations of cancer treatment. It may not be as popular in other parts of the country as it is in the Old/New West.

ION, I think I managed not to let my customer know how idiotic I found it that she didn't know what time zone she was in. We had to reset the time on her computer, and I had to ask her what state she was in so I could reset it properly. I'm afraid the horrified note slipped out a little into my voice.

ION, I think I managed not to let my customer know how idiotic I found it that she didn't know what time zone she was in.

Heh. I'm gonna guess "not Central time", because if she was in Central time she'd need to know that to plan her TV watching.

She goes on and on about vitamins and prattles on about whether we let M have an occasional Coke or watch TV too much, yet he lives all the time with this fear of his mom flipping into a rage-mammal? All the quinoa in the world won't fix that.

Truth.

The one time I stayed at her house, she and her current husband were so nasty to each other, in front of me, and the kids, and I was just so flabbergasted.

Oh my god, I can't stand being around couples who are nasty to each other in front of other people. Snarky is fine, like I said earlier. But actual nasty comments, cutting remarks, insults -- no fucking way, man. Don't be in public with each other if you can't act like grownups.

There is a portion of my psyche that enjoys violence. It wants to hurt people. I've been known to snap and actually hit people with no warning. It's been decades since I've done it, but occasionally that bit will open a curious eye and prick an ear, and I must remove myself from a situation.

Hubby says he can hear that bit lock onto target (the only fair description, my mind goes quiet and my attention focuses completely on someone utterly unsuspecting). I wish I could say the trigger was something noble, like a threat to a loved one, but it's generally something petty that has pushed my coping mechanisms to the limit.

That bit worries me. I know what I would be willing to do if I let it go. Someone blithely said, "Well, if you don't dwell on it, those feelings will go away." Yeah, I don't think so.