On achievability – Julieanne Smolinski in The Guardian (thanks to my friend P):

‘On any given day, I range from “grouchy dad in a movie set in the 1950s” to “PMDD Jerry Seinfeld”. You know: “When did they start putting these dumb adhesive bands on bananas? They come naturally bunched!”, et cetera. And for whatever reason, I’m at my worst in the car. When I’m overwrought, I don’t scream at my kids or pick fights with my husband – that all gets saved for the car, when I’m by myself, with no one else to hear me but God and my upholstery.’

(…)

‘ (I’d recently made the switch from a tough-love therapist to the kind who just sides with you on everything for an extra $150.) Her suggestions were based on actual anger management guidance for people even more irritable than I am, people who have been brought up on charges for real-deal rage incidents. One strategy is – seriously – saying the words “beep beep” instead of using your horn. Another is trying to express your feelings without involving or engaging the other person (for example, yelling “I am upset that you didn’t use your turn signal, because I am late for work!” to yourself, instead of at someone who might get out of their car and slap you).’

(…)

‘A tense moment later, the muscly guy emerged holding an absolutely enormous bullhorn.
Well, now we could all relax. Then the real fun started.
“ATTENTION JERKOFFS! MOVE YOUR FUCKIN’ TRUCK! I’M TALKING TO YOU, PIN DICKS! MOVE YOUR DUMB ASS BEFORE I PUT MY FOOT UP YOUR ASSHOLES!” I don’t know whether he was an off-duty fireman, a parade organizer, a hostage negotiator or what. Maybe he had a bullhorn just so he could yell at people in traffic. It didn’t matter. He said “assholes” like it was two separate words, and he said it loud. This went on for some time; in a true feat of poetry, or improvisation, he never repeated the same florid insult twice.’ (…)

‘I wish I was a person with great reserves of fortitude and patience, who stabilizes and comforts other people in times when we’re all frightened, inconvenienced and furious. We need those people, the peaceful ones who wait for things to pass and know that they will. I wish I was, but I’m afraid I’m not.’

(…)

‘Trying to not be angry was impossible – it’s what you do with the feeling that matters. This applies equally to sitting in traffic, getting cut in line for an oil change, or watching the world you wanted for your kids fall irrevocably apart, day after day after day.
That rage, she said, is not unique to me or to the particular time and place in which we’re living. We have jobs to do, people to raise – and the worst thing you could do is let the worst feeling become the guiding principle of your short time here. You could certainly honk, or make the choice to start carrying a bullhorn in your car. Or you could realize that new challenges require new coping strategies that don’t involve the daily venting of our rage in front of our children. While admittedly fun, it’s just not a sustainable way to live if you don’t want to end up in a trembling fetal position under your duvet every night, or, perhaps, in a glassy-eyed mugshot on the evening news. Then she said something unintentionally devastating about my new haircut.’

Read the article here.

A few conclusions. The last word about anger management has not been said yet.

Most experts on grief believe that anger is just the prelude to sadness, why not skip the prelude?

Produce some dazzling or less dazzling models in clay, a sculpture once told me that working with clay helped him dealing with his anger.

The same can be said of course about writing.

But maybe the eternal youth is the eternal anger?