Getting A Grip
Yesterday, I couldn't stop over-emoting. It was one outburst after another. It felt like I couldn't get out of freak-out mode.
Actually, it reminded me of my college course in Interpretive Reading. Has anyone else taken this? I almost joined the college speech team as an interpretive reading specialist, except I had to work and pay bills and stuff.
Basically, there is a whole performance art element to it - lots of facial and vocal fireworks, posturing and my favorite, using the book as a prop. Talking about birds? You gently flap the pages to mimic flight. Talking about guns? Suddenly snap the book shut and glare down the spine as if lining up a shot.
Very effective when done right. But also very funny.
When I'm trying to drive a point home with my kids or husband, I often unconciously seize a nearby object and press it into service. I bang my coffee mug on the counter, punctuating each word as I demand "you. must. get. your. shoes. on. now." I wave the broom handle around in broad, sweeping strokes as I pontificate on "all this mess that you all helped make!" My voice swoops down low and raises to a banshee screech. I can liquify metal with my angry stance, people.
Yesterday, I wasn't in competition form. I started off with empassioned pleas, delivered in a husky voice. Not getting a response, I switched to typewriter-clipped diction, and a business-like demeanor. No. No matter what I asked, I was getting nothing.
I did a good "Incredible Hulk" and started tossing things around, huffing and puffing and growling. Every word that left my lips was a shout. And I couldn't back down from it. I had rage inside me, and I couldn't stop yelling at people.
At one point, my husband asked me what I wanted for lunch and I shouted, with veins popping out in my temple, "I DON'T KNOW!!!!" about a foot from his face. He calmly asked "Why are you shouting?"
I stood there like a carp, mouth opening and closing, fists clenched, pulse pounding, poised on the tips of my toes to fly into his face and yell some more, and nothing came out. I rocked back onto my heels and said "hhhmph" while I bit my tongue. Time to step up the b12 vitamins again. Sheesh.
I am having to make an huge effort to stay calm today. I still feel the Hulk simmering under my skin, just waiting for a chance to explode. Or maybe that's just that my pants are about half a size too small. Hmm.
Comments
Must have been something in the water. Yesterday my kids announced they were going into the laundry room to read and be alone. Translated, they were sick to death of their parents and had no where else to escape to. It's been a tough January.
Posted by: Candy | January 30, 2006 10:19 AM
I tell my daughters that they are driving me up the wall...in a very fast car.
Posted by: Erin | January 30, 2006 11:24 AM
I have never heard of this Interpretive Reading of which you speak. Where do people do this? Do they charge admission? because it sounds flippin' hilarious.
Me, I think being allowed to sleep for a full night, uninterrupted would do wonders for keeping my Hulk at bay...
Posted by: Deana | January 30, 2006 12:17 PM
I'm sorry you're having a hard time, Jenny. I really am. But you.are.funny.
Posted by: Stephanie C. | January 30, 2006 3:27 PM
I agree it must be something in the air. Last night after screaming at everyone for no good reason I feigned a headache and went and took a 30 minute hot shower.
Posted by: chris | January 30, 2006 4:23 PM
So that's what I've been doing all this time? Next time my husband asks why I'm shouting, I can reply with, "I'M NOT SHOUTING! IT'S INTERPRETIVE READING!"?
Thank you, Ring Mistress, for giving a name to my flapping, swinging, stomping, hollering style.
Posted by: Elaine | January 30, 2006 4:33 PM
I've never taken that course but I did take 2 years of voice and speech. My instructor loved the unstructured sound. I'd be in the middle of a monologue and she interrupt and ask for one. "Mmmmmmmm-aaaaaaahhhhhhhh", I would reply. She loved it.
When I'm feeling hulk-like (and Lord knows that's more days than not) I just let one rip from the diaphragm. The great part is that it scares the bloody hell out of the kids.
PS- Those are my pants you're wearing.
Posted by: MommaK | January 30, 2006 4:54 PM
I also had monster PMS this month. Hang in there.
Posted by: Sarah | January 30, 2006 5:53 PM
I'm SO with you! My 5 1/2 yr old has been particularly trying as of late and I feel as though I've done nothing but bark at her this afternoon. She flits along in "what, me worry?" mode until I go HULK on her then she bursts into tears because Mommy's so mean. I don't fall for it though, lol. Suck it up, kid, like you didn't know what road you were skipping down.
I need a refill on my B's too...
Posted by: Nancy | January 30, 2006 7:13 PM
Wow. Try watching someone else's three kids (plus your own two) for two whole days. Paste above post to thought process. Now you have MY weekend in a nutshell.
Posted by: Candice | January 30, 2006 7:28 PM
Ugh, I know that "mommy is trying not to explode" feeling. Ugh.
Posted by: Crazy Lady | January 30, 2006 8:21 PM
This is why I cannot have children! I LIVE in that mode. Thanks for sharing yours :)
Posted by: Christina | January 30, 2006 9:59 PM
And I thought it was me! When I have those dayZ I tell my best friend that I am in Angry Black Woman mode. Because I thought nobody could show out like that but a Black woman. But, I see it ain't just a black thang.
Posted by: Sybil | January 31, 2006 2:21 PM
We all have days like that. Here's to refreshed coping tools. It will get better.
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