Frustration. We all have it. Why? Because people who aren’t us insist on Doing It Rong.
Doesn’t matter what it is, from running a government to running a Piggly Wiggly, someone somewhere along the way is going to figuratively get on our tits without the decency of doing it literally first and it’s going make us yearn for the good old days before ugly phrases like “DNA evidence” and “toxicology reports” were bandied around our judicial system the way they are now.
Frustration is about as close to anger as many women feel allowed to get. Angry women are unreasonable. Angry women are crazy or hormonal. A woman should never be president because what if she gets her period and decided to blow up the world, harharhar…sigh.
Listen, if a woman can get past senior prom, not to mention any number of meetings, job interviews and day-to-day interactions where her worth is judged by the same criteria most commonly used to evaluate a finger sandwich –is she delicate, small, easy to handle and generally pleasing to all senses?– without hauling off and murdering someone, go ahead and give her the football. Trust me, she’s good.
The fact that we’re not encouraged to even experience, much less show our anger or frustration leads to, say it with me now, MORE anger and frustration. That’s when we get those toxic mean girls who grow up into horrible people.
I’m all for harmlessly channeled aggression. You wash your face to get rid of dirt, you take that weird pill once ever 90 days to get rid of parasites (you think it’ll all beach blanket bingo down here in Baja?)…there’s got to be some way to get out anger and frustration without damaging yourself or others, at least not more than necessary.
Time was, I’d just go down to my beloved Red’s Indoor Range and shoot at things until I felt better. It’s not that I especially like guns but for me, there’s no better reminder about the destructive power of uncontrolled anger than holding something that, unless carefully and thoughtfully handled, can literally kill me and everyone around me. Call it Texas Zen.
Guns are like babies except guns are illegal in Mexico (yet somehow Mexico’s numbers were left off the little Facebook graphic that listed firearm-related deaths for countries with gun control) and babies are most definitely not. There’s something inherent about them that says “hey, you might not like me or want one in the house, but it would be a bad idea to drop me.”
So how do you handle your anger and frustration? Hit the gym? Sleep it off? Yell and yell and yell and yell? Is it constructive or destructive? If you’re still not comfortable with your anger, why not? What steps are you taking to treat this like just another strong emotion like love or sorrow?