BREAKING BRUSHES
By: Lauren Anderson
I remember my college years as a blur of emotion, discovery, and expensive “education”. And occasionally being educated after discovering how expensive emotions can be. (See what I did there?)
I’m talking specifically about a few of the guys I hung out with in undergrad. Nice guys from all walks of life, who had to kiss their damage deposits goodbye because at some point in their college careers, they put a fist through the wall.
WHAT?
I know. I was surprised too. Apparently, they got so mad that they just had to punch a wall.
And it wasn’t just one guy either. At one point, it seemed like every dude’s apartment I went to had a hole in at least one of the walls of cheap sheet rock. Why was this happening?!
These mostly non-violent guys spanning across race/social/economic/age/etc– all knew it wasn’t okay to hit anything alive, so they would hit the wall instead. Like it was somehow better if the only thing getting hurt was themselves.
And whether they blamed a video game, a break up, or the alcohol, they only admitted to their stupidity later in a sheepish and reluctant way. It wasn’t a point of pride. They were embarrassed. And it was the result of rage. However fleeting, there is no other name for it. It was rage.
I remember being incredulous about it all. How could they be so dumb? That’s just so DUMB. I mean, C’MON! Ill-advised gentlemen! But I had no right to be so judgmental. Because I carried a dark rage secret myself.
You see, I break brushes.
That’s right. I am a brush breaker. From the time I was old enough to be in charge of my own hair, I have broken more brushes in a fit of rage than I care to admit. It is embarrassing but true. Whether I would get mad at my sister and fling my brush at the door as she left, or smash the brush to the floor at the cruelty of a boyfriend’s dispossession.
Sometimes my young hands would just take the brush and snap it right in two. My brut and fitful rage temporarily making me a she-hulk. Taking over my brain, and my sense of reason.
It got so bad, at one point my mom put out an embargo on brushes. I wasn’t to be given a new brush until I learned how to take care of the ones I had. Needless to say, I spent a better part of that year brushing my hair with two thirds of a taped-together-pink-plastic Goodie with no handle.
By the time I got to college, I learned my lesson and was able to control my rage through less destructive means. I am happy to report I’ve had the same few brushes for years now. I was able to control myself… for the most part.
I mean, it’s no secret that I have a temper. And even though I’m not usually breaking brushes anymore, I have been known to get VERY angry VERY quickly. And as frustrating as that can be, my anger usually dissipates as quickly as it comes on. Which can also be annoying… so I’m told. This quality makes me pretty fun to tease in that true little sister way. But it also makes me a menace. Luckily, I’ve gotten very good at recognizing my temper, apologizing, and talking it through.
I mean, how can I get so mad, and then get over it so fast? I dunno. My temper often acts like flash paper. Hot, bright, and then gone without a trace. It doesn’t mean the anger was without merit, but it probably burned at a degree too intense for the crime.
That’s the difference I think between having a temper and being ACTUALLY angry. I think they’re two different things. Tempers flare. Anger can last for years. And I’ll tell you, I’ve had years like that. And the angry years made the temper even worse.
Which is why I wanted to talk about this today.
Recently, I’ve had more than a few people tell me how “calm and happy” I seem. A few others even have said I have a “lighter energy” lately. They say it tentatively, no doubt having been conditioned to deflect the temper flares of my past. I usually laugh and say ‘Thank you, I feel calmer and happier.’ But after like, the ninth person said this to me, it got me thinking… Man, HOW MAD WAS I BEFORE?!
I guess pretty mad… (She admits reluctantly.)
It’s hard to admit that you’re angry. Or that you have a temper. Because while unchecked depression and anxiety can be dangerous, the danger is often only aimed at yourself. Whereas anger, well, that’s another story. Just ask any wall, on any college campus, in America.
I didn’t mean to be so reactive, aggressive, defensive, combative, etc. I guess I was in a bad place, and I didn’t even know it was affecting the people around me. I thought it was just roiling around inside. But it wasn’t. It bubbled out. Enough of it, that so many of the people close to me noticed and commented on the change.
The good news is I don’t feel like that now. And then it got me thinking, so what’s the difference? What’s changed?
Well, DUH. Everything.
First things first, I started asking for help. From professionals who helped me unpack some of my anger, and helped me get to the roots, and from friends and family that still had patience enough to talk with me about it. They gave me the strength to take the next step. Which was joining Solcana, and starting this CrossFit journey.
Second things second, Working Out. At Solcana, I have a place to channel that intense temperamental energy. The clinking of the barbells, the exertion of my muscles, the sweat, the effort, the endorphins, the outta-your-head-into-your-body movement of it all. It’s hard to wallow in a pit of anger when you’ve just done 500 calorie row on the machine. Or just squatted the weight of a prize-winning hog.
And thirdly, and maybe the most important, I stopped eating sugar. For the most part. I still indulge every once in a while because I’m a person in the world and I want to know joy. But I watch it. I monitor it. And I happier and calmer because of it. All stuff I learned through the Solcana Wellness Center. This is single-handedly the biggest change I have noticed. When I eat sugar now, I get REALLY hyper for about 15-20 minutes. And then I instantly feel like I need a nap. The next day I usually feel more sad, and I’m quicker to snap at people. How crazy is that?!
These 3 things have resulted in an overall happier, calmer, more patient me. Which is a great me to be around! In fact, I think it’s my favorite me to be around. Though, I am lucky to have friends and family to love me in all weather, not just the fairest climates.
***
So you can bet I was surprised when the newer, happier, calmer me still broke her brush.
I haven’t done that in years. YEARS. Since high school. But I couldn’t help it.
I was getting ready for work the other day, and scrolling through Facebook. I quickly learned of the terrible news of more murders. One in my own state. Committed by the police. I felt an instant swarm of emotion. Sadness, fear, anger, confusion, helplessness… and then rage. Rage. RAGE.
I took my brush and threw it against the wall of my shower, and it shattered. And then I fell on my knees and cried. I was embarrassed by what I had done. I felt so overcome. So useless. So impotent.
I know from the work I’ve done, that the thing that creates the most rage in me is feeling helpless. Powerless. I’ve pin-pointed this, and that is exactly how I felt in that moment. Scared and frozen.
I wanted to DO something. But I didn’t know what. And in the moments between hearing the news and figuring out how to be a Black Lives Matter ally, all I felt was rage.
It just feels like tragedy on top of tragedy lately, and it is overwhelming. So even though I am happier and calmer than I’ve been in years, I’m still breaking brushes. Because the nation is breaking brushes and busting holes in walls, raging against what’s hurting us, and crying out for change. And I am no exception.
So what do I do? To manage this helplessness? This anger? This rage?
To be honest, I don’t know. But I’m trying. I’m learning. I’m listening.
I read articles. I ask questions. I will even protest, though it scares me. I will write to my elected officials. And because I’m an artist, I create work that inspires thought, discussion, and hopefully some much needed laughter.
And when I’m not on stage trying to accomplish all that, I’m at the gym.
Trying to sweat out some aggression so I can focus and get to work. And be useful.
Helping keep my spirit, my sanity, and my brushes in tact.