Middle Ground

I grew up in a loud and angry house and there isn't much that shuts me down faster than being yelled at. In the time it takes to draw a single breath, I'm suddenly a child again, with fear knots in my belly and tears at the ready. Even if the raised and angry voice isn't directed at me, all I care about is finding an exit, the quicker, the better. I despise and am shamed by my own reaction but there it is. Rome can burn, but it will burn without me.

And now we live in a loud and angry world and I feel as if I'm under assault nearly every minute of every day. Everybody's yelling and there's no escape, no shutting it out. It's like re-living the very worst days of my second marriage and I cringe to remember those hate filled shouting matches in between the silences. It's impossible to know which was more painful.

Verbal violence is a desperate creature. It grows fangs and talons and a taste for blood. It develops a will of its own. I think of it as a virus, airborne, highly contagious and eventually, all consuming.

I wonder if there isn't a middle ground, somewhere between flight and the urge to fight back, but so far I haven't found it.