I screamed at my cats today. I’m ashamed to admit it, but I lost it earlier. I had a lot of things to do, but was not getting anything done. My internet connection was unstable and it took a minute to send text messages. To top it all off, I was still suffering from migraine postdrome (like a mental hangover after a migraine attack) and was just not present. I was trapped in a cloudy state in the bowels of my head and I was starting to fray at the edges.
Cats are very sensitive creatures so they picked up on my mood. They we’re all nervous and antsy, so that made them irritable. One wrong move and a feline rumble started. They rolled over the kitchen counter and broke a feeding bowl, a drinking glass, and my incense burner in the process. Then I lost it. I threw my wallet, my keys, a cushion at nothing in particular. I bellowed with rage and picked up the cats’ scratching lounges and threw them against the wall. One broke in half. I got all my rugs and started hitting them against the wall, scattering dust and fur in the air. Then I lost steam and just sat on the floor. Then I stood up and started cleaning up.
Sometimes I feel the need to let the monster out and go on a rampage. Being a teacher and a fur mom to 5 FeLV+ cats, I don’t give in to this urge easily. I’ve trained myself to count back from 10 and breathe and exhale my anger. But I have limits and my monster needs to come outside once in a while otherwise it will fester and grow and would take over during some inopportune moment.
So I breathe in and out. In and out while I mop up my mess. Goodbye, Little Monster. Maybe I’ll see you in a year.