Well, foof.

[ladysprite]

The problem, of course, with being grown up and reasonable and trying to maintain a semblance of emotional stability is having to behave in a grown-up, reasonable, emotionally stable manner. While this is infinitely more socially acceptable, it is far less emotionally filling, and it does nothing to help lance the blisters on my psyche.

I want to sulk. I want to throw things - hard, noisy, breakable things, not the nice tame stuffed animals I keep nearby to throw in a stable adult fashion. I want to say mean, hurtful things that will cut like knives, flaying people I care about. I want to make melodramatic statements and snap decisions that I'll regret later. I want to make myself bleed, just because I need some way for everything bubbling up inside to escape, and because having an actual physical manifestation of pain makes everything else so much easier to see.


But I can't. Because I'm doing my best to be a stable, reasonable, grown-up kind of person. So I sigh, and I ratchet the tension in my shoulders up another notch as I pull my fingernails out of my palm, and I tell myself that I'm fine. If I'm feeling indulgent, I'll even say something like 'Gosh, I'm kind of upset right now.' And I tell myself it'll go away over time, and won't I be happy then that I didn't do anything stupid and irrevocable? Very mature, very stable and reasonable. But it's about as satisfying as giving a starving man a photograph of a boullion cube.....

Comments

[rufinia.livejournal.com]

I've been pondering this all day.

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I've been pondering this all day.

<lj-user "alexx_kay"> is right. Being grown up and adult means dealing with your feelings healthily. And it doesn't sound like what you're doing now is healthy for you.

I have a set of dishes that have a lot fewer saucers than I'm supposed ot have be cause I would put them in ziplocks and thrown them against the wall. My dishes, no mess, no cut feet, no foul (And the crashing sounds is music). The garage (rummage? Yard?) sale season will be starting any second now, and we can get you some nasty-ass dishes to throw. And a supply of heavy-duty ziplock baggies to put them in. And that may help release some of the tension.

[outlander.livejournal.com]

In high school, a friends mother did just taht--and had a wall of her basement devoted to the pastime. Whenever we needed to, she let us come over and throw old dishes. I second the vote to search for old dished to break and destroy while using destruction to vent feelings.