Getting the angries out

I work as a therapist with kids and I talk to them a lot of times about healthy ways that they can get their anger out, like hitting pillows or wiggling their little bodies around. I tell them about the dangers of holding their anger in, that if they don't let it out in good ways they will explode like a volcano.

Friends, I feel like a volcano tonight. There are some rumblings and any day now some molten hot lava will come spewing out and will burn everyone within a 10 mile radius. Or something.

But seriously. The danger of feeling bunt out and having my support system be either a. asleep or b. working, means that when it all gets to be too much, I just want to explode.

So if I do explode, who do I take it out on? Certainly not the owlet. Not the man asleep next to me. Maybe the dog. (sorry, Patronus.) Really, I take it out on no one. Instead it festers. Little things turn into enormous things. Like the sound of the dogs nails click-click-clickibg on the hardwood floor after we just got the owlet down for the night. Like the fact that he is now up, because of the incessant clicking. Like the fact that as much as I want to sleep, or read and relax before bed, I will be up, holding the owlet 'til he's deep enough asleep to put back down. Or the fact that the hubs is napping before work. This last thing shouldn't bother me but it does. Because, hello? Festering volcano.

When I have moments/days/weeks like this, I try to find my own things to help calm the angries. Like blogging. Watching the owlet sleep. Listening to the owlet laugh. It pours a little bit of cold water on the flames. Doesn't quite put it out, of course, but it helps.

At least until the next night.