Feeling the Feelings
I’m mad as hell and I will be taking it some more
I thought I was sad. I didn’t want to write today because I thought it such a boring topic to continue to write about how sad I am. Tomorrow is my dad’s birthday. I’m always a little sad around this time. But, I’m not really sad. I’m mad. I’m actually pissed. Really pissed. About everything.
One time I was seeing a counselor and I was sharing a particular thing about a particular person (no one in the family, just so y’all know!) and she said,
“Okay, this is what we are going to do.”
She stood up and went into her closet. She pulled out a bright red fat foam bat and handed it to me. She sat down and used her foot to push the ottoman across the floor toward me.
“Hit it,” she said.
I laughed. Of course I laughed.
I hit it — sort of.
“Hit it!” she yelled. “And say, ‘I’m mad as hell!’”
It was all such a cliché of therapy. It seemed so ridiculous. I laughed at the whole idea of it. I had not said I was angry. It seemed so silly. I felt stupid. She was not backing down.
“Do it! Beat the hell out of that ottoman and say out loud, ‘I’m mad as hell!’”
I am a rule follower and a people pleaser so naturally I did what she told me to do. I thought I could get away with a few swats and be done. Nope. She made me beat the hell out of that piece of furniture while I imagined saying to the person I was mad at,
“I’m mad as hell!”
It may come as a surprise, but I’ve grown very good at not feeling my feelings. I do a great job of watching enough TV or playing enough Candy Crush or eating enough chocolate to keep all those feelings pushed comfortably to a place where they won’t interfere. Except they do. I get depressed. I don’t make the bed. I won’t answer the phone.
I didn’t make the bed today. I thought I was incredibly sad again. I did make it to the gym to see my personal trainer. I told her the other day that my favorite thing she has made me do so far is throw a medicine ball as hard as I can against the wall or floor as many times as I can for thirty seconds. I didn’t get it at first. I didn’t know why I like it so much. I’m sure there are many reasons, but I’ve realized that a big reason is because it is like beating the hell out of that ottoman. I don’t like to admit that I need to do that. I laugh and find it all ridiculous in my mind. Then it is such a release.
So, today, as I threw the ball against the wall, I named things I’m mad about in my mind.
“Bipolar disorder.”
“My kid being transgender.”
“My dad dying.”
“Covid.”
“Mean people.”
“My BFF’s brother dying.”
“Not getting that job.”
I don’t know every item I named, but I said a different one for every time the ball hit the wall. I only did that the first set of three. It didn’t feel like much. I didn’t think it made a difference. I felt crazy for even thinking it would.
Then, tonight, while eating dinner with Hubby I ended up crying harder than I have in a while. I was actually feeling the feelings — even after eating some Sister Schubert rolls! And, I realized that the cliché worked. Throwing the ball against the wall and naming things that I would like to beat the hell out of knocked something loose inside me. And, I finally realized that I am more pissed than sad. Sometimes my anger looks a lot like depression.
That may not seem like a big break-through, but it feels like one to me. Talking with other women in similar situations tonight in a support group help me identify the break-through. I was able to say out loud, “I’m really, really angry about everything.”
I don’t know if this will mean I’ll make the bed tomorrow or feel any better or flip off every other driver on the road (that is something I have literally never done). I do know that I’ll be back at the gym Thursday and I’ll likely have a new list. I’m gonna beat the hell out of that ball.
