Self Control Is Exhausting

Today I told my husband to get ready to repair a window.  I was angry enough that I wanted to throw something through a window.  I mean I truly wanted to chuck something through to hear glass breaking.  To feel the power of my arms hurl something forcefully and powerfully enough to send it soaring.  I wanted to destroy.  Crush.  Break.  I had the window picked out and the item I intended to throw.

I was controlled enough that I didn’t.

I was frustrated at having the control to not do it.  Because I wanted to.

I was tired from exerting the control over the anger and dealing with the frustration of it.

I was disappointed in myself for feeling so angry.

I was sad about being disappointed in myself.

I was worried that all of these things were flying through my head.

I was stressed that I was worried.

I was anxious because I couldn’t get rid of the stress.

I was tense because the stress on top of the anxiety was torturing my muscles.

I was miserable over the negative outlook.

I was gloomy about the cynical perspective.

I felt guilty over my negative attitude.

I was downhearted over my reaction.

I am sorry for my temper.

This is too exhausting.

I’m going back to happy.

It sure feels a hell of a lot better.