File this under Misery Loves Company. I was around 14 and my sister 10. Our parents weren’t at home so it’s actually their fault. They should have known better than to leave us unattended or at the very least, they should have duct taped and zip tied us to heavy objects.
I was in my room bobbing my head to some fat beats. Kool Moe Dee and the Fat Boys had both just released new cassettes. So with my back to the door my sis sneaks in and hits the pause on my dual cassette boombox and killed my jam. Screaming and threats of violence ensued. She ran. I hit the button and went back to spinning on my head.
After the 3rd such interruption, I was searching for something with which to wreak havoc. She poked her head in the door and I launched a huge hightop Nike-Air-knockoff in her vicinity. I missed, but the giant hole in the hollow door to my room was evidence of my rage-fueled flinging. Clearly my keaster was in a sling. I paused the groove and went on the offense.
I figured there was no way to avoid the certain death sure to come at the hands of my parents. However, there might be a way to spread the ire of my folks and lessen my personal pain–I needed to harass my sister sufficiently to evoke a second broken household item. It worked. Somewhere around 2 minutes and 8 seconds later I felt the refreshing breeze of a high speed roller skate pass my face and crash into the door. SCORE. It hit with such force that it lodged in the door and she couldn’t get it out.
It took our parents a couple of hours to return, and in the eerie silence after the raging fracas I had a spark of genius. I popped the door pins on my bedroom door and exchanged it with one from the basement. HE. GOES. FOR. THE. WIN.
Yes, I did lie and say “No I didn’t. Do you see a broken door here?” Only later to pay for said sin and door in blood, sweat and yes, even tears.
That was not the first time anger seized me nor was it the last. I seem to have a genetic propensity for this ugly outlet of emotion. In fact I’m getting angry right now thinking about how hard it is to control anger. I’m not a bad guy! IT’S HARD! WHAT? I GUESS YOU’RE PERFECT! breathe breathe ok, serenity now, serenity now whew.
I like to frame my anger in the Christian realm and call it “Righteous Indignation.” That’s sinner-speak for “I have a right to treat you like crap.” Honestly it’s just good ole’ fashion sin that needs to be given to the Father but WOW!, it’s hard sometimes.
In Ephesians it says “BE ANGRY, AND yet DO NOT SIN; do not let the sun go down on your anger,”(4:26). I am so nailing the first part of that one, but I’ve still got work to do on that “do not sin” part. I have to recognize where righteousness anger ends and sin begins with this emotional powder keg.
Do you get angry? Do you throw roller skates? How do you “anger but not sin?”
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Great story! I have a similar one that included me and my younger sister arguing over the last yogurt. The yogurt suffered the greatest, ending up against the wall. Fortunately for us, yogurt does not have the ability (under normal circumstances) to actually break through a surface such as drywall – or a hollow door, for that matter. To this day, we have something to look back and laugh about.
Controlling anger is a tough one. It’s always much easier to plan not to act like a moron when your not in the moment. Actually implementing that plan is an entirely different container of yogurt – or shoe – or whatever.
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You’re exactly right. To set the plan before the heat of battle is easy, to carry it out is something entirely different.
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Thanks for sharing, Ken! Yeah, there are people that make me angry – insurance makes me angry. Doctors often make me angry. But since I don’t live with my brother anymore, I dont know, I just don’t find a lot of things that make me fling things at doors. I guess it’s just a product of not caring! 🙂
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Man, I nearly had to make a counselling appointment after reading that comment with the insurance and Dr references. They make me angry too. I think you’re right about not caring.
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As the oldest sibling and only male child in the house[crazy back story but I have brothers I never lived with], I was cruel to my sisters a lot. I had a lot of anger and rage issues growing up, mostly stemming from abuse.
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An older brother must be the acid test for temper control. I had such a test during my teen years. Only my anger caused me not to notice that the hammer I was throwing at my brother’s head had my parent’s bedroom door as a backdrop. Although I didn’t think it was fortunate at the time, he deftly dodged the hammer’s head.(Sounds like a good place for a pun-he protected his head as the hammer head headed instead for the door?) Anyway, a nice hole in the door greeted my parents on their return. (As you say, what did the parents expect, leaving us home alone?) I wasn’t very happy at the time, but I’m very glad today that I missed my target and my brother’s brain remained intact. As Charles Stanley says, anger is only one letter short of danger.
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I knew I was not the only one who had suffered at the hands of a little sister.
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Yeah, I’ve done some similarly stupid things in my day. In most cases, tho, I hurt my hands more than I hurt the stuff I hit. Except for the wall in my college dorm room. That just hurt my wallet.
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I agree a reckless expression of anger is never beneficial to the actual problem.
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I had a similar incident, only it was my dad that I was mad at and I punched a hole in my bedroom door. I had to mow a lot of yards to pay for the door.
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I understand. Thanks for reading.
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