Fury.

Generally, I don’t much care for anger – I think it is a base emotion. I, as any other pseudo-intellectual won’t tell you, have this high-minded obsession with trying to replace real human emotion with intellectual theorizing and philosophical discussion. I think it was C.S. Lewis who once called humans “spiritual animals”, and I’ve found that I try very hard to distance myself from identifying with the latter. Yelling, sobbing, and other emotional outbursts are unproductive in my opinion; everything can be settled in a calm and rational conversation. When people talk about getting so mad that they see red or feel physically heated, I think to myself that they’ve simply allowed themselves to be bested.

Until this week. In a particularly rough therapy session, I experienced anger like I can safely say I’ve never experienced in my life. Not just anger, rage. Fury (get it? Like the title). I sat in my therapist’s office and felt so much violent wrath that I felt physically ill. Nauseous and hot all at the same time.  Several times I thought “this must be how a tiger feels when they’ve fucking had enough”.  This animalistic, unadulterated, consuming fire. 

The fun (read: definitely not fun) thing I’m learning about emotions is that you feel them in your body as well. I woke up Wednesday (after my Tuesday session) feeling like I had gotten hit by a train. I felt hungover. And for a second I was like “did I drink last night?” Nope, just shifted from the grieving stage of Denial to Anger.

I looked up “fury” on the interwebs and Google reminded me of the Furies in Greek Mythology – three little fairy bitches who come from the underworld to Earth every once in a while to fuck with the wicked. Tisiphone (“Avenger of Murder”), Megaera (“Jealous”), and my personal favorite Allecto (“Unceasing in Anger”). In related news, I also learned that Fury is generally an emotion associated with women. You know, “hell hath no fury” and all that jazz. It’s probably because there are so many fuckboys acting like assholes running the streets. *sips tea*

Listen, I don’t know what to tell you. I feel like this post is disjointed and helter skelter, but it’s the most coherent thing I’ve been able to put together in the last few days. I almost skipped writing this week because I was too fucking mad but then I was like, nah, I’m gonna write about how mad I am! So here we are, that’s all I got, this was my week: I got fucking mad. I’ll be sure to write about the resolution or the softening, if and when it comes. Until then, if anyone knows where I can buy a cheap punching bag or have one of those Groupons for destroying an old house, I’d gladly take it. 

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