Moving On – Part 2

Moving On


angry emoji

It has been said once or twice, ok perhaps a fair few more times than that, that I may have a slight tendency to fly off the handle every now and again (or at every opportunity, but who’s counting!)


It may be true, but a skill I have learned over the last few years is how to internalise that anger and direct it into something more productive. The same cannot be said for a younger, more inexperienced me.


Following on from crying myself to sleep, I found myself getting more and more angry. Why did I let someone have such an effect on me? How dare he take sleep and my social life from me after he’d already taken so much?


I remember sitting in those day PJs looking at the sunshine thinking to myself, ‘why am I not outside enjoying this absolutely splendid weather.’ because I clearly stepped straight out of a Julie Andrews film. Cue cartoon birds and penguins singing and dancing around me.


It’s incredible how anger festers if you don’t know how to release it properly. Something as simple as not having any shreddies in the cupboard could send me into major meltdown (sorry mum!) I directed my anger in every possible direction, out of shear frustration at not being able to direct it at the one person I believed caused all my suffering. (I was a tad dramatic in my younger days)


The worst tantrum I threw was on my 22nd birthday. I had been in a relationship with this guy for 2 years (yes the same one from the crying blog – what can I say he really got under my skin!) and the week before my birthday, he vanished, he’d left me. I was distraught enough about this, and then not even a phone call on my birthday, that really got to me. However, that wasn’t the worst of it, while I was having a lovely relaxing birthday bath, he came to my house, didn’t knock at the door, and left roses on the door step.


Upon seeing those roses, realising what had happened, I lost it. I vividly remember smashing the flowers against every surface I could find in the kitchen, petals flying everywhere, effing and blinding, because I’m a lady like that. Never in my life have I destroyed anything to that extent. I woke my parents, my mum had to prise the mangled rose stems out of my hand (thorns and all) my dad had to restrain me because at this point, having been relieved of my flowery bouquet of hate, I had turned my attention to anything I could get my hands on to. I’m pretty sure a loaf of bread went flying across the room at some point. It was like I had regressed back into a 5 year old being told she can’t have an ice cream from the ice cream man and kicking up a real stink about it. (That’s why I love being an adult, I get to regulate my own ice cream intake.)


That one took a while to cool down from. I had so much hate in my body I scared myself. That’s when I started hitting the gym hard, not only did it put my anger to good use, it also kept me busy, too busy to think about that smelly boy and all his nastiness.


Releasing anger is healthy, but there are definitely right and wrong ways to do it. Learn more about redirecting anger here.


Moving on Part Three out next Tuesday at 9am.








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