When your anger is like an exploding egg in a pot boiled dry
This morning as I sat writing, two eggs were boiling on the stove. I was not paying attention and the pot ran dry. When one of the eggs exploded and blew off the lid, I finally remembered I was cooking eggs.
I am the pot
I am the angry boiling pot, trying to keep the lid on, my mouth closed, the words inside.
And by not speaking, nothing changes, and the water continues to boil: am I a maid? why doesn’t anyone clean up after themselves, the silverware is covered in peanut butter, who left the empty milk carton on the counter? why doesn’t anyone take out the garbage without being asked? are they blind, who left their shoes in the middle of the kitchen floor? …
I don’t speak. I keep the lid on. I don’t open my mouth.
Fools show their annoyance at once, but the prudent overlook an insult.
The pot explodes
The fire is still burning, the heat is still on. The words are still in my mouth. The water evaporates. The egg explodes and blows off the lid.
I explode, and open my mouth. Anger, resentment, frustration. I am a fool.
I close my mouth. I cool down. My words lay all over the floor, stuck to the ceiling, the wall and in my children’s hair.
With soap, tears, I try to clean up the mess I made. But some of the words won’t come off. Some of them are stuck to the skin of my children. I apologize. Ask for forgiveness and pray. Eventually the words wash away in my tears.
And the pot sits empty filling up with tears. Hiding. Embarrassed. Trying to forget the words.
Trying to speak in love; trying to not let the pot overheat. Trying to not be a fool.
Trying to be a healthy pot.
Trying to forgive myself.
Have you ever been the exploding pot? Please let me know in the comments.
I would love to be a Fellow Exploding Pot Friend In Recovery. Encouraging each other to speak before the lid flies off.
We could start a private Fellow Exploding Pot Friend In Recovery. The official FEPFIR group. All my best,
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About Pamela Hodges
I write slice of life stories to help you know you are loved, valuable and worthy just as you are. I am a writer, an artist, and a cleaner of seven litter boxes. I live in Pennsylvania with one husband, four cats, one dog and two birds.