A few days ago I was sitting at my desk trying to work but my anger was on the rise. I could barely focus because I was so irritated and fired up.
In an effort to protect the guilty (Swaggy J) I won’t go into the details. They don’t really matter much anyway. I think I can sum it up best by saying that I kept repeating to myself, “He is so stupid.” I know, it was a real adult conversation I was having with myself.
And before too long I was making mistakes and taking my frustration out on the wrong people. I told my co-worker that I was going to take a break and attempt an attitude adjustment.
I did 31 burpees (you, know to finish out the challenge) and I felt better but I was still worked up. I walked into the other side of my basement and there were two of my long-lost friends, my heavy bags.
I took my mounting aggression and poured it into my fists as I punched the hell out of the bags and then I dug deep into my old Muy Thai days and threw in more than a few roundhouse kicks. After I kicked and punched myself into a breathless, near asthma attack I realized I felt better. And that next time gloves would be a good accessory to take the time to put on.
I was still upset but I wasn’t boiling over and I was able to push it into the background of my brain.
Thanks to my old friends and punching and kicking over and over and over. I was getting over it.
Sunshine & Sarcasm,
Lowi & G