Oh boy, did I lapse on my New Year’s resolution already. I promised I’d write a new post at least once a week, and that fell by the wayside. I’m sorry. As you may have gathered, I have been pre-occupied with a lot of stuff. Plus, my life during the past few weeks has been really boring and dull, so there’s not much you would have wanted to read anyway.
Ok…so what’s been going on in Non-Jersey Girl land, you may ask?
I have been back at the gym regularly since December. It wasn’t so much as to lose weight, but to calm my stress and get my endorphins going (hey, gotta get my dose from somewhere since I’m separated.) I’ve been feeling pretty good overall…but I realized I still have a lot of emotions and anger to let go.
So I started amping up my routines. Power lifting classes. Hard-core indoor bike spinning. Group kickboxing.
It still was not been enough to calm me down.
A long time family friend suggested, “Why don’t you go break something?”
Me: “You mean like breaking dishes at a Greek restaurant?”
Her: “Well…yeah…but the Greek restaurants don’t really do that around here. Why don’t you just go buy some and break them?”
I pondered it for a minute, hugged her, and drove off to the nearest Salvation Army in search of poor, hapless earthenware, stoneware and Depression-era glass pieces that I could pulverize.
I bought four dishes, picking each one with care. I don’t know why I did that. One was a god awful puke green glazed dish that would have made any food look like dog crap. One was a dainty white dessert plate with flowers on it. I steered away from glass, figuring that it would shatter way too much.
I brought the dishes home, placed them on the counter and then wondered what I was going to do with them. Was I really going to break them? Would I throw them like frisbees or would I just slam them down on the pavement? I decided to just go outside and go with it. I went out to the backyard on a cold morning; an absolutely calming silence surrounded the property. The lake beyond the fence was frozen solid; a few geese were sitting on the surface. I went to the patio, tentatively raised the dish, and then just threw it down. I mean, really threw it to hell. It smashed into what seemed like a million pieces. The noise sent the geese flying, and I grinned evilly…I hate those poop machines anyway.
I slammed down the dessert plate and savored the exquisite moment when it hit the concrete and shattered fragments in scattered rays. This is better and cheaper than therapy, I thought to myself.
Each week I go to the thrift store to pick out some new victims…pretty soon I bet the manager is going to start putting some special pieces aside for the crazy lady who keeps buying mis-matched dinnerware. I limit myself to my smashing ceremony to once a week. I look at it as a way to (literally) make a clean break from the week. And I feel totally at peace afterwards.
I encourage you to try it. Really…it’s a fantastic way to get your emotions brought out, even if you’re not the kind of person who readily talks about your problems. A few people have even tried to capitalize on this by opening “Smash Shacks” (one of those Japanese concept imports that may have been ahead of its time in the US.) But all you need is some frustration, a hard surface, some dishes (and maybe some safety goggles).
Or, find a Greek taverna near you…OPA!!!
p.s. Check out this awesome video “Rolling in the Deep” (my personal mantra/anthem as of late) by British pop star, Adele. See what I mean about throwing dishes…they’re just going to town!!!