[Soupe du jour]

[Something I quickly wrote back in 2017.]

She could be the funniest, sweetest and most happy-go-lucky girl around town. She was constantly smiling, on the move, dancing in a field of flowers. She loved people, and most loved her, until the inevitable moment struck. There was a change in the moon, a single word misspoken, a plan suggested off her route, and BOOM! Goodbye angel girl, hello to the Tasmanian Devil!

The change in her aura was quite mistakable. All you had to do was look at her. The usual sparkle in her eyes turned to piercing red laser lights. Her chin stuck out and her mouth puckered up. There was one second of quiet, like the peaceful silence of a hurricane eye, and then the lightning struck violently, with several loud CLAPS, smoke rising, winds blowing over 100 mph. Other times it was more like the gradual high crescendo of the screeches and screams of wild cats fighting.

Her ferocity was mostly always expressed verbally, with only the occasional punch of the wall with her fists, or pounding her keyboard with her finger tips. The verbal storm that came out was still violent to the ears of all those who heard her. Her family fought back with equal vigor, but others in her life were not so used to this wrath.

Her dear husband was a calm and imperturbable type. Not that he accepted her angry behavior, but found a way to calmly ignore it, and sometimes if lucky, de-escalate it, too. But this couple would sometimes be out in public, when the woman had her fits. Strangers would comment, but the woman was oblivious. She lived in her furious head. Her pissed off world. Very little input found its way in. Or even if it did, she felt justified by her temper, and either ignored them, or responded back waving her sharpened sword.

Yes, this woman still had many periods of charming gentility, at times. It got her through many doors, but later the doors pushed her out once her moods became untoward. One time it was so bad that the reality struck her back hard, and she didn’t know what to do. Her husband sent her to the doctor in hopes of flushing the Tasmanian Devil permanently down the loo.

Full meals of anger management classes, strong medications, years of therapy, and plenty of humiliation began to sink in. All of these can work to calm many of the fiercest types into quiet lambs, and slow them down. It extinguishes any hidden fires into cool tranquil pools of calm sedation.

Many people on the prescriptions above may eventually complain of feeling “flat”. They say they’ve lost their verve, their courage, and their strong constitutions. Some that knew them before their transformation remain paranoid that the wild beast will return. Those closest to them don’t miss the chaos, but find them changed in ways they strangely pine for.

A new person was born, sometimes a shaky creature. When stress became high, tears flowed freely when before it was ire. She wondered if overall this was an improvement. She actually began to miss her strong passionate ways, her inner blazing fire.

Time passed. She began to feel more grounded. The happy elation she used to feel came back in momentary blips. On occasion, something would happen that was clearly angering. Out of the blue came a silent “Grrrrrrrrr” deep inside her. With this growl came a brief rush of mood heightening adrenaline. But instead of an explosion, she smiled a wily smile and uttered a well-worded sarcastic declaration. The recipient may have been perplexed, or perhaps missed the words completely that came from her lips. But this newly invigorated woman left the place swiftly, and to top it all off, gave a middle finger to the vacant lot behind her. She began to skip again and realize she found some of her strength, but no longer suffered the mild fury’s major consequence.

[*Beth*]

Very well expressed, Soupe! Thanks for sharing.