I didn’t drink, but I did lose my cool and smash a egg on the floor. Real mature. My dear husband wasn’t fazed in the least, but I was pretty shocked at myself.
After all this therapy, all this recovery, where is all this anger coming from? I don’t feel like I’m an angry person, but evidently there’s some unresolved emotional pus that needs to be lanced. But honestly, it gets old. So I’ve had some difficult times. Who hasn’t? Perhaps all the wonderful accoutrements of civilization are what enables me to recharge these emotional infections. If I had to hunt and gather, I bet I’d be way less angry.