you were Darth Vader?
I do. More often than not. Am I that cold and calculating? Maybe. Or is it just impulsive thoughts to deal with rage and anger? Is it bad that I imagine squeezing their neck until they stop breathing and their neck snaps or have their vehicle careen off the road so it looks like an accident? Or am I just insane? Do I follow through with any of these things? No.
I wonder if normal people think the same way? I’ve discovered and come to realize the older that I get, that I’m just not normal. I’m not like the regular people out there. It fascinates me and worries me at the same time.
Of course those deep dark thoughts don’t come to fruition and I control my anger. I try to be aware of my feelings and talk myself out of ‘psycho’ every now and then. That is usually when I lock myself up in my room, don’t answer the phone, don’t talk to anyone and just brew. After a good night’s sleep I’m good and back to my regular self…. or after I’ve taken my vitamins I’m back to my lil bubbly self.
I’ve only lost control of myself once. On a school bus at a teenage boy that was teasing my friend. He kept pestering her, calling her names and wouldn’t shut up. He was a total jerk and my farm neighbor. I kept warning him and kept getting more and angrier as the bus ride went on. He kept calling her a nerd. Finally when he called her ugly and went on to compare her to an animal I lost it. She wasn’t ugly and I thought she was very pretty so I was infuriated that he kept making fun of her.
I flew up over the seat and just began to nail him with my fist. I kept throwing his head against the window and just pounded on him with my fist. My fist flew in rage connecting his face, his cheek, his ear, nose, anything it could.
If he blocked me I’d use my other hand to throw a fake punch or slap, then drill him with my right fighting fist. It wasn’t until the bus driver stopped the bus and hollered at me, that I stopped.
We both got hauled up to the front and made to sit together right behind the driver for the rest of the school year. From then on he never pissed me off or said anything mean about my friend. He got made fun of because a girl beat him up, but the cocky S.O.B just said, “Oh, I let her.”
Phfft… fat chance. He was trying to throw a punch out, but I’d block it with my other hand and I was striking so fast that he just eventually curled up and protected his face.
The rage and anger I felt was just unbelievable. I had never felt that much hate, that much anger, that much pure and utter rage ever before. I lived a crazy childhood and there were plenty of things I got angry at, but nothing that evoked such killer instinct before. It was just a blind rage.
I never felt sorry for beating him. To this day I’m still not sorry cuz he’s so mean and rude to people. For instance, there was a girl who had acne issues and was kind of an ugly duckling in high school. Once she graduated from high school, went off to university she turned absolutely gorgeous. Before she was this meek, mousey brown haired geek and she ended up being this bombshell, smart blond.
Everyone was so happy for her, however, when she went to a hockey game, this “boy” was there and he recognized her. He tormented her in high school and made her cry several times. He began to bark at her
and call her a dog at the hockey game. This was 5 years AFTER high school.
I was just shocked and appalled. What ignorant, jackass does that? Does he have low self esteem so he feels the need to put others down just so he can feel good about himself? Does he have no compassion? He obviously is still immature and I really hope that he falls flat on his face and gets back what he dished out. If hereditary genes work their magic on him, he will end up fat and bald. Maybe then he will be humbled. I dunno.
The next time I felt close to that much rage was when I had Laura. I remember she kept crying and whining and I didn’t get enough sleep. I was depressed, I was angry at myself, at my life and I couldn’t stop this baby from crying. She was only a few months old. I remember the rage and anger I felt towards her. I wanted to shake her I was so furious. If she died, at that moment I didn’t care. Gathering all the strength I had, I gritted my teeth, picked her up and put her in her crib. I slammed the door on my way out, went downstairs, turned on the music really loud and turned on the TV. After awhile she tuckered herself out and went to sleep.
This time however I felt terrible. I felt like a horrible mom because I had such deep dark thoughts about my own child. I went in to peek on her and put a blanket on her. She looked so angelic that I felt even worse. Maybe if she turned into a Gremlin and tried to eat me I’d feel more justified, but there she lay, just a sweet beautiful sleeping angel.
I suppose the good thing was that I didn’t shake her. I didn’t hit her, but I had to leave her when all she needed was to be loved I couldn’t give it to her cuz I had no love within me to give. Just pure hatred.
So now when people ask the question and it was a question I asked as well before I had kids, “How could someone shake a baby or want to do injury to a baby or child.” I understood. I understand the places that the mind goes. I understand the feelings and the rage.
As I had more children and I could feel that rage creep it’s ugly head into my consciousness I would just pick up that child, put it in their room and go into my room and lock the door. A time out for baby and mommy. It scared me to feel that much rage and the immense hatred of another human being that I’ve tried to make a conscious effort to control the beast.
So now instead of that rage, I just imagine spectacular deaths for people that have made me furious and have pissed me off. I guess it’s a way for my mind to deal with it.
I’ve also decided to take up kickboxing. I LOVE it! I went with a friend and when she put the glove shield things on and we had to hit them as hard and as fast as we could I just focused and went nuts. She was constantly being pushed back and the happy go lucky goofy Joanne disappeared and the evil, mad one surfaced. I took out all my aggression on the shields for a minute straight.
The instructor and everyone just stared. When the instructor called time he just whistled and said, “Wow! You have a lot of anger in there don’t you? Great form!” I snapped out of it and laughed it off. Made some smart crack, like ‘AH, I was just imagining it was my husband and I was beating him for all the times he pissed me off.”
Everyone chuckled, however my friend looked wide eyed at me. She gave a light hearted laugh and then said seriously, “Holy! I’m NEVER going to piss you off! I wouldn’t want to be in a fight with you!”
I just laughed it off. “Naw… I don’t take my rage out on people, I just stash it inside. I just let some of it out.”
“Well, I’m glad we’re not sparring!” She said, “You’re scary!”
To which I just made a joke out of it and played it down…. but she did get a peek inside. And she’s right, it is scary.
I quickly started acting goofy, making her laugh and putting her back at ease once again. I made sure that my monster was back inside sitting quietly until the next class.
I really love kickboxing. I’m going to go every Tuesday. It’s a great way to release all my tension, all my anger and rage.
My brother said I should go into mixed martial arts which is something I’d love to try as well. However, no one teaches it out here and I don’t want to go into Calgary for it. I suppose eventually someone will start something up here.
I do like the physical contact and how great it feels to let your fist fly into that shield glove. All that rage and anger being channeled down your arm, through the glove and connecting with the shield. So, so great.
When it was her turn I would push the shields back at her and taunt her, “Come on! Hit me harder! Don’t be afraid. Harder! Harder! Harder! Focus! HARDER!” I would be tapping her back to offset her punch. However, she didn’t get that same dark, angry look that I got. She loved the class as much as I did.
I think it’s good for women to do a sport like kickboxing. I think it really gets a lot of anger out of your system. It’s a good thing. 
I was sorry that the class ended because I wanted to learn so much more and I wanted to fight until my arms could no longer sustain the punching.
Ryan figured I would be sore the next day, but I wasn’t. I was ready for another round. Tuesday can’t come fast enough.