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My War with the Inanimate


My War with the Inanimate

We all have our little quirks, and I believe that it is very therapeutic to admit them. Oddly enough, this one is one that I share with not only my mother, but also with my grandmother who recently passed away. It probably comes from being relatively clumsy to begin with, and then it transforms itself into an outlet for daily frustration. Maybe I picked it up from observing my mother and my grandmother’s behavior as a child, but to be honest it feels much more natural to me than that. 

I am not a violent person at all. I have a lot of trouble with violence to be honest. I cannot stand to see anything living in pain, but I will beat the crap out of anything that has no pulse, if I find a reason to be angry with it. If I can’t get a container open, I will begin to rip it up or throw it across the room in anger, the whole time believing that the container is doing this out of spite towards me. Yeah, I know. Most particularly if something hurts me. The rational way to say this is: if I hurt myself on something. You know, a cabinet door bumps me in the head, or I stub my toe on the edge of the couch. I will beat the object up. I will call it bad names and hit it and possibly further injure myself in the process.

I have curbed this behavior quite a bit from what it was when I was younger. Just after our twins were born, I believe that I threw a DVD across the room in frustration because I could not open it. My husband very calmly informed me that I could have hit one of the babies and hurt them, and so I found a very good reason to change my behavior. I still feel like beating inanimate objects up very often, but I have toned it down to the point that it is one or two smacks rather than a full on attack. I think that I still live with the vague notion that the non-living objects in my world are in league against me, but then if I look around my house, and take in all of the damage that my children are inflicting on it…well maybe the furniture does have a right to be angry with me.

I guess that it’s a blessing of sorts. I am thrilled that I am compelled to beat up on furniture and appliances, rather than people or animals. I would never think of attacking someone unless I was protecting someone else. And it can be pretty hilarious as well, when I am not in that angry moment, or when I am watching someone else in that angry moment. I saw my mother go after a basket of laundry once, and I swear it was one of the funniest things that I have ever seen. When she noticed me laughing at her we both cracked up over it. Humans are just hilarious.


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