Is it the Italian blood?

It takes a lot to push my buttons. But once they're pushed...well

All right, so put up a guest entry and then I get some time to actually compose a few incoherent thoughts.

So. Button pushing. It takes a fair bit to get me really upset. But when I do, I don't scream (at first). Usually the frustration just overwhelms me and my hands begin to shake. And then I start to cry. Sort of. I hate crying. So I guess it would be more accurate to say I choke on my tears. Which just makes me even madder.

Like I said, I loathe crying.

So here I am getting upset, getting upset with myself for getting to the point where I cry out of frustration and I just want to throw things. Hard.

I've never been good with spoken word. Stuff that comes out on paper or when I dance doesn't materialise when I open up my mouth. And when I get this upset, the last thing I want to do is sit down and write. Too much energy. Either one of two things happens at this point. I manage to calm myself down and go for a walk.

Or I explode.

I will throw whatever is within my tear-blurred reach. If it's a fight with someone, it turns physical. Slap punch kick nails teeth you name it. I want to inflict physical pain or damage equal to that of which I feel at the time. And all the while some tiny little part of me is standing off to the side watching dispassionately.

It's not like I work out or take dance classes on a regular basis any more. So a raging ball of female spitfire isn't going to inflict a whole hell of a lot of damage on the other party, especially when it's 5' 1" and maybe 45 kg.

The tears-to-calming down happens more often than not. But the few times where I've thrown shit and gotten physical...well it's weird. I am a control freak. And when I lose control, that little part of me standing off to the side is seriously freaked out. It's like "Holy Shit who *is* this person?"

Because at those freakout times if I had the physical strength or skill, I would have killed the other person, no qualms.

Hmph. Don't make me cry motherfucker. Especially if there are heavy objects nearby.


Lest you think I'm upset, I'm not. I've been cranky due to work shit lately, but that's it. Just something that reminded me of one of those episodes of fisticuffs. And shallow rumination on what happens after I reach my breaking point.