Throwing Shoes and Breaking My Laptop

I think I'm a fairly even-tempered person.  OK, well, my children might disagree.  BUT - overall, I think I can keep my cool.  I don't typically flip people off in traffic.  I don't lose it with waitresses who get my order wrong.

But lately, I've had the urge to throw something at people.  Usually a shoe.  And if I'm wearing flip flops, I consider throwing Jason's shoe.  Because flip flops just aren't heavy enough.

I should say that no one has been rude to me.  No one has said anything wrong, or even untrue.  I just hear everything with very different ears.  My ears are tuned to the death of my daughter, and almost everything reminds me of her in one way or another. 

I think the shoe-throwing fantasy is directed at people who say things that strike me the wrong way.  Things that fall on my ears and make me want to scream.

I want to throw something and break it.  Glass.  Glass on concrete.  I want to throw it.  And hear it shatter.  And watch it break into a million pieces.

Or my laptop.  I could just take a hammer to my laptop.  No, a hammer is too small.  A baseball bat.  A really heavy baseball bat.

There are times that I can feel this awful rage stirring inside of me, and all I want to do is THROW SOMETHING.  Rage over the reality that my daughter is gone.  That I won't be holding her this Christmas.  Anger because it feels like she was created just to die.  And because the world is moving on and I'm still stuck in October. 

Death is just wrong.  And I hate it.

And I just want to throw something.