Walking Off Anger
When the strain of keeping my composure, buttoning my mouth and retreating from potentially incendiary situations becomes too much, when I feel razor blades of venom about to spray from my mouth, I grab my phone and my earphones and I walk.
I walk the Anger Walk.
The Anger Walk takes half an hour, less than that if I’m top grade angry.
The Anger Walk is my way of processing the adrenaline which if left to course freely through my veins would bring the house down. The soundtrack is very important. The playlist is called ‘ANGRY’. It starts angry, then gathers rhythm and energy and then attempts to repair and uplift. Sometimes I’m not done stomping and fuming when I should be uplifting.
This afternoon as the sun was going down, a solitary figure strode along a muddy road, earphones poking out from beneath a woolly hat. There was out loud singing. Shouty singing. Singing with punk attitude. It was the sound of Vivaldi being murdered in the English countryside.
It was dark when I got home and the house was quiet.
