I was hanging out in an adjoining office to mine and got into a chat somehow about rage. It seems that everyone there, and they are different personalities, had a story. One guy destroyed a dryer that was acting up. Another stomped on a cable box. I once smashed in a wall after a team I followed lost a close and important game. Even the mild-mannered woman in the room said simply she destroyed everything in her room once.
So what did you do in your rage? Did it make you feel better? Has anyone here not gotten pissed off and destroyed something in their life, and how close did you get?
Yer pal,
Satan
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Four months, two weeks, one day, 13 hours, 17 minutes and 32 seconds.
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I was having a major temper tantrum once and decided to go the Joan Crawford-Lana Turner route, I ran to my dressing table and dashed all the jars off onto the floor; then I took a handful of cold cream, smeared it over the mirror, and collapsed into picturesque tears.
THEN I discovered how hard it is to vacuum up powder, and how impossible it is to get cold cream off your vanity mirror. I guess Joan and Lana had maids to do that part. Still, it was VERY satisfying for 30 seconds or so.
Now, I just fling ice cubes into the bathtub—makes a great glass-breaking effect, and they clean themselves up!
Way back when, I had a Ford Maverick, quite possibly the only Grabber SIX CYLINDER ever made. My dad advised me to keep it (“They’re becoming collectors items!”) For some ungodly reason, I followed his advice through a worn out carb, 240,000 miles on the engine and all sorts of fun with charging problems.
Finally, when it died and would not jump start in the left turn lane of a major thoroughfare, I saw the reason it would not hold a charge: The body had split apart at the firewall, spreading the front end; the engine was resting on the alternator pulley!!! I slammed down the hood and, literally in the middle of rush hour traffic, jumped up on the hood and stomped with both feet at once all the way to the back bumper!!! For some reason, this bothered my sister, who had come there to give me the jump.
I have never felt so good about a bad car… and I still was able to unload it for half of what I bought it for!
I once flipped my bed over on its side, causing the post on the footboard to go through the window - which just pissed me off further. I then punched the wall and because I didn’t hit a stud, there was a hole in the drywall, which only pissed me off even further. After that, I kicked the sliding door of the closet, knocking it off the railing and tearing down the bar on which all my clothes were hanging, which, you guessed it, pissed me off even more. I then left my apartment before I could do any more damage above and beyond the security deposit I had just lost.
And no, Satan, I did not feel better afterwards. I felt like an asshole for doing it after I calmed down and I was out a bunch of money.
I’ve found a much better way of dealing with my anger is throwing a tennis ball at the racquetball court and fielding it with my baseball glove. That way, I can throw as hard as I like but not hurt anything.
The last time I recall smashing things in rage was junior high–I still get berserker-mad sometimes, but my impulse control is better now. Usually, I smashed junked TVs in the trash heap behind the family TV shop.
One occasion does stand out, though–I’m still rather proud of it. The school had little outbuildings for small classes (cheaper than adding on to the main buildings). These buildings were made of thin plywood with metal siding nailed to it. A certain bully happened to be standing next to one of these buildings when he hit a friend of mine. I slammed my fist through the wall a couple inches in front of his face, then I wrenched out my (bleeding) fist and held it up to his face and said, “Next time, two inches to the left.”
Actually, didn’t Joan have Christina clean it up?
Anyway, I just throw things. A LONG time ago, I tried to break my ex-boyfriend’s car window with my fist, but I’m no longer with him, nor do I have the rage associated with him, so I’m fine, thank you.
During one three-day arguement, when I was in high school, my parents and I at various points got very angry, with the following property damage results:
Cracked window in my bedroom (this was a result of me trying to “get away” from my mother, who liked to stand less than two inches from me when one of these arguements got started. She kept backing me up until I was sitting on the window sill, then I leaned back).
Doorknob through the front hall wall (Dad, storming out of the house)
Doorknob through the washroom hall wall (Me - connected to number 4 below)
Doorframe removed, deadbolt torn through wall and wooden frame. This impressed everyone and was pretty much the end of the arguement. I was cleaning up my room (which, IIRC, was the cause of this outburst), and took a load of garbage out to the trash in the garage. Mom was loading the washing machine, and heard the door close. Without thinking she pushed it closed & locked the deadbolt. We had to do this; we had a dog who had figured out how to open the lower knob. However, I heard the bolt slide home, and all the anger from the rest of the weekend just came back, so I turned around and hit the door, intending just to slam my body into it (I was a dumb kid, okay?) Instead, the door opened, leaving my mother and I there staring at each other.
I once threw a Rubik’s Cube at one or the other of my parents hard enough to put a two inch dent in my bedroom wall where the corner hit.
Isn’t it a good thing that I’ve grown into a calm, mature adult? Like Balance, my impulse control is much much better - but I don’t get quite this mad anymore, either.
I’m not very proud of this, but I once punched a guy I was sorta dating after I walked in on him and another girl. I split his lower lip, and he just had his tongue pierced the day before so it really, really hurt.
The most recent one involved the metal venetian blinds. A couple of days after we moved into our apartment, my wife was pulling the cord that raises the blinds, and the string tangles leaving one side high while the other rested on the sill. She asked if I could help, BIG mistake. I tried untangling it, it got worse. I tried taking them down and untangling it, it got worse still. Finally I put them backup and tried again, now both sides are tangled. Screw this, give me a Knife or some sciccors. Now it’s untangled but bent with wide spaces where some of the blinds slid from there normal place and for some reason this pisses me off more. I yanked them down and threw them out the window, right through the screen. Luckily for me an Ikea had just opened in the Bay area and my wife wanted new blinds anyway.
In general, I try to avoid rages. I am a firm believer in the “you can’t undo things” school. I try very hard not to say things I don’t mean or that I’ll regret because you can’t unsay them. You can apologize or explain, but they’re still there. They still got said. In the same way, I don’t break things or whatever because when you’re all finished being angry, you still have a broken whatever. And not only is it broken, but it’s a reminder of lost self-control.
That said, there was one time when Mr. Sunshine mad me madder than I have ever been before or since in my entire life. The argument resulted in him leaving my house and getting in his truck. I followed but couldn’t stop him from leaving, so as he drove away…I threw rocks at him.
But the funny part was that the entire time I was scooping up handfuls of rocks and flinging them at him as he got into the truck and drove away, I was thinking, “I don’t want to actually injure him or do any damage to the truck!” so I was basically throwing the rocks, aiming carefully so as not to actually hit anything. It was more of a display of temper than anything. The next day he asked me what the heck I was doing as he drove away. It was dark, and since I never actually hit him or the truck, all he could see was me bending down and then flailing my arms around.
I don’t recall doing anything physical, but I did sincerely wish a person I knew to the eternal fires of hell. I believe my exact words were “May God damn you, ********”. Said in a totally calm, controlled voice. He laughed.
A year later he got his 14-YO girlfriend pregnant (he being 18 at the time) and married her. Hopes of being in the Navy: shot. Job: manual labor at the high school from which he had previously graduated.
Coincidence? Lordy, I hope so. Didn’t realize until just now . . .
Depending on the tantrum I either throw things or tear up things. Tearing is the most satisfying. I keep a bunch of old t-shirts around and when I really pissed I just grab one and RRRIIIPPPP! You can always tell how mad I was by the number of pieces left when I’m done.
I have only ever been in what could be considered a rage once in my life. And the person to whom it was directed is dead now… No, it wasn’t my fault. It was my grandmother, and she died of natural causes. Anyway, the outlet of my rage in this case was simply yelling, “DON’T WORRY ABOUT IT!!” at the top of my lungs (you had to be there to understand). And that was it. I’ve never been mad enough to resort to physical violence of any sort.
15 years ago, my husband came home and announced that he was moving out, leaving me all the bills, the child, the cats, one of the two cars (both were mine) while I was without a job at that moment but he was going to “give” me $35 a week in child support. This was after 4 years of him being unfaithful with any remotely human person (either sex), physical and psychological abuse etc. I decked him, gave him a black eye.
made me momentarily satisfied. But, almost instantly regretted it 'cause he threatened (ok, so it was an empty threat at the time), to bring charges on me and get custody. Never did anything remotely like that before or since.
OTOH, He did stuff like that all the time. Usually broke stuff of mine, but after we split, he’d do other stuff. the most recent favorite was when he’d rented some tapes with our son, went home, plugged one it, didn’t work, plugged the next one in, didn’t work, etc etc. decides that the VCR itself is a “piece of junk”, proceeds to take it outside, hits it with a hammer, jumps up and down on it destroying it… then my son says to him “um, dad, wasn’t there a tape still in there???”
Most of the times I’ve just slammed stuff to make a lot of noise, but once, I was in a wally-ball league. Anyone ever play wally-ball? It’s way fun, it’s like volley ball, but you play it in a raquetball court. Anyway, we were losing, and the guys we were playing were VERY cocky. I hate cocky people anyway, but when I’m losing to them, I REALLY get pissed. I punched the wall. As you know, if you’ve ever played raquetball, the walls in the courts aren’t very forgiving. I spent the next six weeks in a cast. I know… BONEHEAD!!!
I’m normally pretty calm and spaced out…
but in my rage I have…
broken a drier,
busted wooden stakes over 1/2inch thick with my bear hands,
nearly COMPLETELY destroyed a tree with a machete
blew up a few potatoes with a few M80’s
blew up a few bottles with Gasoline (1cup=1stickdynamite)
blew up a few tires
blew up a few cans with C4
blew up a few nice sized chairs with gasoline and C4
blew up a few nice sized chairs with MANY M80’s
blew up a full-sized car with a bit of C4, imagination, and gasoline
blew up a few sinks
burned a few notebooks
burned a few CD’s
burned a few lighters (which, of course, blew up)
burned a few aerosol cans (which, of course, blew up)
Like Balance, my impulse control is much much better - but I don’t get quite this mad anymore, either.