In a good way, I suppose. I had therapy today and all I can say is thank God for therapy and for M. I printed out Thursday's post for him to read and we talked about it. A lot. And surprisingly, I cried. I haven't really cried in therapy. Some tears, some times when I came very close, but I always stopped it. M gave me permission, told me it was okay to let it out, and I did. And I felt a little better. We talked about how I was feeling destructive, how I wanted to break and destroy something to get out my frustration. And safe ways to do this. It feels good to be heard and validated.
When I got home, my son, thankfully, went outside to play with his friend. I pulled out this big padded bat (think American Gladiator) and went into the backyard. I hit the side of the house a few times but that didn't do anything for me. But we have some dead trees. And I beat the ever loving shit out of those trees. Branches flying, needles falling, shrubs pounded to the ground. I must have been a sight - me, in a bright pink top and skirt, beating at these trees, tears falling, a snarl on my face, yelling and cussing, repeatedly swinging the bat over and over until I nearly collapse. And then I cried again. This time it was big, ugly sobs, uncontrollable crying.
And it felt pretty good. I felt more cleansed. M was right. I needed to do that. I needed a physical and emotional outburst to release all of my pent up frustration and anger and rage and sorrow. I'm not foolhardy enough to think that this is good and was all I needed. Quite honestly, I may need to do this a few more times if it starts building again. And I'll allow myself to do that. I give myself permission to explode in a safe and healthy manner.
Now, I just want to sleep. I'm physically, mentally, and emotionally drained. Sadly, I can't right now. My kiddo is out front playing and I have to keep an eye on him.
I'm hoping I start to feel better. I'm hoping this anger starts to subside. Only time will tell.
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