Hot Head

I am a hot head. When you look up the word hot head in the dictionary, you’ll see my picture there. The slightest thing ticks me off and if you happen to be in my general vicinity then you’ll be privy to my rant. I come from a long line of hot heads. My dad is a hot head, both of my grandmothers were hot heads, from what I heard, my great-grandmother on my father’s side was a hot head. I’m frustrated constantly and and I hate everyone equally. Everything pisses me off! I don’t volunteer at my kid’s school because of my hot headedness. I’ve never left a job voluntarily, it’s always been because I’ve gotten into a fight with a co-worker or better yet, the boss. I yell at the tv, I speed, I tailgate, swear like a sailor....even in front of kids, I flip cars off while I’m in the car, I flip off cars while I’m walking, I swear at cars....I’ve heard my voice echo off buildings while yelling at something or someone while in my car. I yell at the guy who cut me off without a signal and then slowed down, I scream at the pedestrian who walks so fucking slow across the street that I miss the goddamn light, and I am that pedestrian who flips the car off that revs it’s engine as I’m walking across the street. “I have right of way, asshole!”. And because I’m Italian, I get so worked up over every little thing that I've said, that I cry. I feel really bad for the things I’ve yelled or screamed or said and then I worry that I’ve hurt someone’s feelings and then I can’t sleep. Good fucking times!

I envy those folks who are calm. I have a few friends who are so calm, if they woke up next to horse shit they’d say “Where’s the horse?” Even the teller at my bank looks like she just woke up. How can people be so calm? I want to be calm too. It is my dream to be calm and zen. I’ve tried the Yoga, to become calm and zen, but I had to quit because I got into a fight with the yoga teacher. I tried the walking to walk off my ‘agita’, but I got into a fight with a woman who walks the same route as me.... “hey lady, you don’t own the entire fucking sidewalk!” So I tried the next best thing....drugs. I went to my doctor and I told her I felt like a caged rat because I was afraid to leave the house due to my hot headedness. So she put me on an anti-depressant with a side of anti-anxiety meds. I didn’t think I was depressed and I didn’t think I had anxiety but the crazy people always think they’re sane. I gave it a go. 

The first day felt like my brain was a grape and someone was squeezing it. I was dizzy and unable to walk upright - I had the same haunch like that drawing of prehistoric man right before he loses the hair. The second day was worse and FYI it’s not a good idea to try this stuff when you have to take your kid to Michael’s to buy crap for a school project. But after a few weeks of being on the miracle drug, I realized I was actually going the speed limit, I found myself parking in the mayhem known as the Trader Joe’s Parking Lot, I had dinner ready without even knowing I’d made it, the dishes were magically in the dishwasher, all my crap had miraculously been removed from the dining room table, my hair was brushed, those rogue hairs above my lip were gone.....I had become.....a Stepford Wife. I could get used to this. 

But because I wasn’t anxious anymore I had developed a hearty appetite. As a matter of fact, I ate so much and gained so much weight that my muffin top turned into a cake top. My clothes stopped fitting, I started sweating...a lot, I had gas beyond gas and the worst part of all, the very worst part of all......I stopped laughing. You know that big, hefty, deep, super-sized laugh that really gets your ya-yas out? Gone. I had no passion. Yes, I stopped yelling and getting irate but I was so calm I was dead. I wasn’t sewing or experimenting with food, I wasn’t thrift shopping, I wasn’t drag racing. And you know how I started writing this thing I’ve been writing.....I couldn’t find anything to bitch about! I wasn’t mad or sad or happy or glad. I had no opinion one way or the other. “Go ahead, cut me off...you must really be in a hurry. Please be careful.” I had essentially stopped being me. With no passion, no zest, no ups, no downs, I was like a lump of shit. I was on cruise control. While the medication helped the rest of the city I live in breathe a sigh of relief (literally, some guy who I regularly see on the road pulled up along side me and asked if I was ok because I wasn’t drag racing him), the medication turned me into a zombie of sorts and that was a true bummer.

So I stopped the meds. They didn’t make me calmer, they just made me duller. I know, I know, it’s not ok to yell so much and drop the F bomb at the Target Pharmacy when they don’t have my prescription ready.....I’m working on that (even if I did call them the day before so there is no excuse for it not being ready!) But 'getting it' means I’ve made progress! If being so calm is at the expense of being a funny, vocal, creative, opinionated, person, then count me out. Sure being calm and relaxed can certainly make my life easier but that doesn’t necessarily mean it will make my life better. This is not to say I'm against meds! Let me be clear! They actually helped open my eyes a bit. But for now, I'm ok with being the hot head that I am. Mr.P said he likes when I yell at the tv and sing made up songs about the cats and lean over him while he’s driving and honk the horn and come up with crazy dinners that look like shit but taste good. He said that’s why he married me! And that made me calm. 


So now that I've had my rant, I’m gonna go deal with those douchebags at TJ’s! Fuck me!