I'm Prone to Throwing Things

This weekend I patched up holes in my son's room. I had mixed emotions while I was applying Drydex to each indent or scrape: anger and another level of anger somewhere hovering around rage. I usually don't go in his room very often because of the general sense of irritation, horror, and the desire to set it on fire that accompanies each visit.


I was texting a friend today about the cornucopia of emotions I have about him and his wall punching. What a bitch ass!  She confessed that she has thrown a bedroom full of stuff around a room like a whirlwind once and had to patch and fix the walls as a result. You can still see the aftermath. The room has a scar.


The truth is that people like to throw things whether it's at each other or at  the wall or at people's heads or all of the above. It just feels good.


It reminded me of how much I actually did like to throw things when I was mad and preferably at people's heads or at least near their heads so they have the instinct to duck or run away from me. I mostly had this opportunity in my 20s. In my 20s, I held beliefs I thought I'd never compromise and I also thought I had a point to prove which I could make extra clear and persuasive by throwing things around the room or at you or your head.


I once threw a glass coffee mug at someones head during a fight. I ran out of insults and the F word was losing its effectiveness so I picked up a mug, which is weird because I didn't drink coffee, and I threw that mug over hand style straight at his head. I even put one foot forward to stabilize myself to ensure the best line drive to the head region. And, I bitch ass missed! I was fully prepared to run since usually when you throw things made of solid glass at people's heads,  those people often throw things back at you. Especially the people I knew.



RAWR! Where's My Mug?


My other throwing adventure involved a Pikachu Night Light. Pikachu became the unassuming victim of my frustration  and anger one day. I was in my 20s, of course, and Tyler and I shared a one bedroom, one bath apartment so there was no hiding emotion or maybe I've never tried to hide emotion, but whatever. I was so pissed that I didn't even know what to do with myself. I was pacing back and forth in the 200 square foot space and I was calmly talking things through. Okay, I was yelling and probably hissing and spitting on myself a little, and I grabbed that Pikachu Night Light and I threw it, over hand again, against the wall.


It was pretty sad to see little, yellow Pikachu smash his head against the wall and come unattached from his light up base.


Tyler still remembers this incident and he'll say, "Do you remember that one time when you threw that Pikachu Night Light against the wall?"


And I say, "No, no, I don't remember that at all. I have no idea what you're talking about." But here's a picture of exactly what it looked like:




Stop staring at me.


But, man, it felt good. Afterwards, I took a deep breath and sat down. All I needed to do was throw something really hard against a wall. It's unfortunate it was my son's childhood night light. I tried to prove the damn thing still worked by piecing it back together, but instead of a night light it was a constant reminder of how good it feels to throw shit around a room.

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