I'm Italy Mone and this is the Slowdown.

There's something that I keep close to my chest.

It's the part of me I am least proud of and yet I know very well it exists and is sometimes

lurking under the surface ever present in my day to day life.

It is my temper, my rage, my anger.

I can be rageful, fly off the handle and even at times scream and cry at the perceived

injustices all around me.

There are times when I feel it in me and yet I cannot pinpoint the reason, the evil

doer, the subject or object of my anger.

I only know that I feel it and it's real and in that white hot moment of rage I can

be ready to burn it all down.

I know no rational mind or deep breathing exercises will work.

My meditation techniques have flown out every window scattered like scared little birds

in the face of a mean chaotic bear on the loose in my ribcage.

No one knows my anger more than those closest to me.

My sweet husband, who is as patient and as empathetic as they come, always seems to manage

to see something from all its angles, to see the best in people, to advocate for humanity.

He knows my rage.

I wish he didn't, but he does.

And when it happens, do you notice the passive voice there when rage happens to me?

It feels as if I am overtaken by some mad animal and I want to take down everyone around

me.

...