Today I am angry. At nothing in particular and at everything in the world. I can feel the heat of rage rushing through my body. I want to hit something. I want to scream. I want to cry. I want to lash out at everyone and everything. My keyboard alone is taking quite a beating right now as I type out whatever bull shit is spilling from my brain. My hands are shaking. (No, Elvis, my knees are not weak but I probably am all shook up but it’s got everything and nothing to do with love).

I’m angry that I’m a single parent. I’m angry that my boys have so many questions that I cannot answer. I’m angry that we are in this situation that feels hopeless and dreary. I wake up every morning not wanting to get up. I force myself. I do my yoga. I do my running. Does it help? I don’t fucking know. I guess it doesn’t hurt. I make lunch. I wake the boys. I yell at them entirely too much because I’m constantly lacking in patience (this isn’t a new problem, but now there’s no one around to simmer me down or take control when I can’t handle it). All the time. For no reason. And for all the reasons. Just because I’m so fucking angry.

I don’t want to turn to the dark side, yet I fear the dark side is turning to me. I can feel it. I am no Jedi. I do not feel peace. I feel hate. And anger. And fear. And we all know fear is the path to the dark side.

I have written this post in 2 parts. Above is pre-ass kicking workout (not to be confused with my general daily yoga and running). Below is post ass kicking workout. It’s an experiment of sorts.

Post ass kicking work out I am still angry. I can feel it. Tears are on the verge of spilling out of my eyes on the constant. But it’s muted down a little bit. The force of the dark side, if you will (I love a good Star Wars reference), isn’t as strong. It’s there, but I can manage it.

Currently, I’m still shaking but it’s because of adrenaline and endorphins running through my body thanks to that “chill” gym my girlfriend convinced me to now join for 6 months. Today’s workout kicked my ass (hence the above statements), as all the others have in the past. But while I was in it, I had somewhere to target my aggression. I did so many push up variations and sit up variations and core work and so many plank moves and burpees (and by the way, fuck a burpee), and I did it all, mostly successfully and while I did it, I didn’t feel anything other than exhaustion and pain and shaking arms, legs and core and near death like feelings. But I didn’t have to think about anything else. I just had to focus on my next move and pushing through, working harder, doing better.

And it made me realize, not only am I physically/literally exercising, my whole life is a new exercise that I have to push through, and work harder and do better. Even when I’m angry. Even when I’m sad. Even when I feel like I can’t take another step or even breathe another breath (ok, that doesn’t even makes sense but whatever). Because my kids deserve that. My family deserves that. My friends deserve that. And I deserve that.