The Anger Album

Track One

On the first day with my new shrink in office, I did just a couple of things to start our professional relationship out on a bad note. One of these things was voice a few of my creative nicknames for the therapist as a play on his last name, Dickson. From that point forward, it was suggested we stick to a strict first name basis. One of the other things was recite my pledge to not cooperate based on my argument I had formulated from the definitions of 'anger' and 'grievance'.

Now, I had read aloud the definition of 'anger' many times throughout the years in order to properly argue my case. "A strong feeling of being upset or annoyed because of something wrong or bad," was one that I had read (I checked multiple sources to prevent any rebut.) Another was, "A feeling that is oriented toward some real or supposed grievance." And then, like any good lawyer's daughter might have done, I looked up the definition of 'grievance' as well, which stated, "A resentment strong enough to justify retaliation." I would have acknowledged, the only time of late I had felt a resentment strong enough to retaliate was four minutes ago when I walked through the all too familiar office doors. I could think up many unique ways to retaliate with every brain in the building, but I would refrain for as long as possible.

They had, much to my indifference, decided I should see a male (a quite large male) shrink, just in case. It was probably for the better.

"You see, Jay," I started in on him, "You are suggesting that I am either 'upset or annoyed' when I have these supposedly angry outbursts. However, the last time I punched someone in the nuts, which was yesterday morning, I actually really enjoyed it. You are also suggesting that I am grieved by something and/or someone. As it happens, I have never felt one lick of resentment toward Will Reynolds. I simply acted out because he had a false impression of my capabilities, and that's it. You have my word," I said, raising my bruised right hand for effect.

I didn't like the way his bulging eyes narrowed in on me. "And what, might I ask, was this false impression of his?"

"He thought himself responsible for announcing to half of the gym that I couldn't even know where nuts were located because I had never had the pleasure of experiencing a particular male extremity beside my best friends', and that this best friend plays with himself quite frequently as well. And I thought myself to be responsible for proving him wrong."

I didn't think Dr. Jay Dickson needed further elaboration as to how I ended up back in anger management, so I flashed a smile and continued.

"So, despite your best efforts, I have no intentions of advancing with your six-step management method. If you had any suggestions as to better managing-say, I don't know-my time, by way of making these visits shorter and fewer, I would be all ears."

My last shrink had moved to the office two states over seven minutes into our first session. Despite the unrelated phone call she received that interrupted our newly developing bond, I liked to take credit for that. However, Jay seemed to be far less affected by my oath. "You think you're cute, don't you?" he asked without uncrossing his meaty arms.

I leaned back in my chair and crossed my arms as well. "You see, I stopped believing myself to be cute when my dad asked me why I was dressing like 'such a little slut' the day of my first-ever school dance in fifth grade, which also turned out to be my last-ever school dance. Since then, I might refer to myself as 'brutish and/or lacking'."

Jay picked up a pen and scribbled something on the legal pad in front of him. "So, you've got problems with your father at home?"

I had been in Jay's office for exactly nine minutes and twenty-three seconds according to a ridiculous cat clock on the shelf above him, and I was already thinking up original, yet quite illegal, methods for escaping my prison cell. "I bet they hired you for your quick wit," I observed.