Boiling Point

It's lunchbreak. In between mouthfuls of Chicken Tepanyaki, ampalaya and rice (demmit, nag-kanin nanaman ako pakshyet), and reading my friends' blog entries, it hit me that it's been more than a month since my last entry...and to think there was a long weekend and hundreds of idle lunchbreaks that came and passed me by. I guess it's because of all the freakin' DNA (Developmental Needs Assessment) sessions, pending program designs and PowerPoint presentations, imminent subpoena for alleged pilferage of funds (don't ask), unwatched episodes of Seasons 4 and 5 of Smallville, and the chef-role-playing at home (stories later). So, I'm taking advantage of these next 30 minutes to write an entry before I head out to Italiannis to meet Maita and Chrissie. I had to pass the lunch because I'm ultimately broke and can't afford any meals beyond a hundred bucks. What a loser.

After two hours of doing lower body exercise at Gold's gym last night (note to self: it's upper body tonight), I came home to an empty condo. Apparently, everyone was either out or sleeping in their respective rooms. As I was getting out of my sweaty workout clothes (I had to wear the same clothes because my oh-so-dependable laundrywoman just miraculously made my long sleeved shirt smell like unwashed feet...which I was able to smell properly in the evening, when my sinuses decided it was done being too clogged for the whole day), I started hyperventilating: the whole room started spinning around me, all colors turning into some monochrome swirls, a faint buzzing in my ear, and a considerable--hell, TOTAL--shortness of breath. My whole body seemingly got the cue and then started acting up all at the same time. I felt a cold sweat trickling down my spine, gooseflesh appearing here and there, and episodes of close-but-not-quite seizure-like muscle spasm. Anxiety attack.

To risk sounding like a nutcase, I've been going through similar episodes in the last few months. And in saying anxiety attacks, I am not necessarily referring to big-time, full-blown outbursts of biological abnormalities...but even simple (?) beast fits. Not quiet like Tourette's syndrome but something that could just as well be a disease.

After years of being timid, equipped with protracted patience, having given in to just about any requests, and having been too hard on myself to fulfill my self-inflicted responsibilities, I think--somewhere in the middle of all the niceness and tranquility facade (?)--I snapped. And, boy, did I snap hard.

The littlest of things tend to make me mad lately. And sometimes, these episodes of anger escalate to rage. And, although I am yet to kill someone to actually fall under the category homicidal, I couldn't say that I am exactly the old Ben. I remember Nolet "briefing" Pink at some point that if Pink managed to get me mad, then there was probably one major transgression committed against me...as it really takes A LOT to make me mad. Apparently, those days were neatly nipped, tucked, and stashed away in one of my old shoe boxes under the dresser.

I was watching an episode of Smallville some days back. In it, Lex Luthor was joining an anger management class (kinda like those AA Meetings...which you'd wish was a trendy thing here in the Philippines) for hitting a parking official's car with a golf club. He was talking with a fellow attendee, a female doctor, who told him she was there because she once kicked an orderly. When asked why she did that, she said, "because I have a low tolerance for incompetence". A chord or two were struck inside of me. I was like, "Holy smokes, I *am* her!"

I hate it when people--especially loved ones--are either pesky (i.e. the ones who'd do something [to you] when they, in fact, already know [because you've told them time and again] that you hate that thing) or plain dumb (playing it or otherwise, nothing irks me more than incompetent and retarded people). Why can't people just be...normal?!

I do not know how this all started. The littlest of things piss me off. My heart rate isn't exactly slowing down to plateau level anymore. And I am almost always on anxiety attack mode. Right now, I am in desperate search of a good and effective anger management class...and I do have a strong desire to, to use my colleague Paula Popple's words, find pockets of kindness in everyone everyday of my life.

Somebody help me before it's too late.