Sometimes nothing feels better than a verbal explosion. Call it filet mignon for your sanity.

Many things have the potential to anger us. Some are justified. Unfortunately, even when we give in to the urge, the results are rarely satisfying or productive.

Please note the operative word is “rarely” because some people and situations call forth the raging Beast. And, at those moments, it feels fantastic to go volcanic.

The trick is to know when a full-blown outburst is necessary and when to wrestle that powerful urge into submission.

People lose their composure for different reasons. An overly neat person may become upset if someone touches or moves their things without permission. The same person may also not appreciate stepping into doggie droppings on the carpet. You know. Normal grievances.

Also, politics or politicians are often triggering topics. They cause us to verbalize our thoughts loudly (because nobody talks about that stuff with their indoor voice).

Over the years, several politicians set this writer’s blood boiling at the very sound of their names. The lady got on her treadmill and yelled at the television news. Did her behavior make one iota of difference in the guy’s behavior or actions? Nope. Then, poor Hubby had the fun job of talking her off the treadmill ledge.

But in the grand scheme of things, raging at people, who do not matter, harms our serenity. No one on their deathbed says, “I still hate Politician Sandbag.” At least, we hope nobody is that far gone to waste breath on some irrelevant crook while preparing to leap to a parallel universe.

Did you know our sometimes irrational response to how folks drive can do us harm?. Our resulting response has side effects. A roaring headache. A few fried brain cells. Or even an aneurism. Not worth it, and yet, like a guilty pleasure, many of us still indulge.

The brave souls who know this writer prepare to learn about her latest grouse-fest. Why? Because what stirred her ire was a book. If we wish to be accurate, it was a couple of characters in the book.

One of the genres this writer enjoys reading is variations on romances. There was a time she looked down on people who read those books. But thanks to our son entering his mother in a contest, which unbeknownst to him included a subscription to six novels a month appearing in our mailbox, she became a reluctant convert.

Interestingly enough, the demographics of romance readers happen to be college-educated professional women. That was a surprising and reassuring discovery since this lady used to be a literary snob. Well, life is about growth and changes. Right?

Being a private person, this lady has difficulty understanding a particular societal behavior common among young women. They share everything. Even the most intimate things are on the table while they slurp adult beverages.

In the novels, such oversharing with people outside of a relationship frequently results in painful misunderstandings between lovers. And often breakups and unnecessary heartache. Instead of blabbing to friends, the logical choice would be to communicate with your significant other. But then logic is rarely found when emotions boil over.

Our daughter tried to explain such behavior. “They seek advice and comfort from friends.”

“But those friends are prejudiced in favor of the one sharing. They are not counselors. They merely offer emotional support.”


“But sometimes that well-intentioned support results in one of them making things worse between a couple,” her mother replied. “All it takes is a tipsy tirade, which causes more damage than helps the situation.”

The daughter is probably right in her assessment. However, some of us females find it difficult, if not impossible, to “launder our dirty linen in public.” That was a phrase women of previous and more reserved generations liked to use.

Nevertheless, when females open their most private moments to “close” friends, this lady becomes a five-foot-nothing volcano.

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