Temper tantrums

21 Dec

I’m trying to approximate the steps. I’ve done aerobics classes, I’ve done ballet lessons. I feel like I should be able to keep up with Digital Xbox Zumba girl, but I’m failing miserably. She’s green when you’re doing what you’re supposed to be, yellow when you’re close, and red when you’re doing it wrong. My character is very clearly, mostly, perhaps 90 percent of the time red. Little arrows circle the part of my body where I’m doing it wrong, but they’re everywhere and I’m unsure what the issue is. I have no idea how to fix it. Based on what I feel my body doing and what I see her doing, I feel like I should be green. At least yellow.

Husband bought the video game for me, I’d been eyeing it up for weeks and thought it would be a fun change from the normal aerobics tape/wearing an ass dent in couch, polar opposite “routine” I’ve fallen into. It was a sweet gesture, but now I’m cursing him, blaming him for the fact I haven’t caught on. Clearly he bought a defective game. Maybe he broke our Kinect. Why would he do this to me?

I feel like a child. A nonverbal one. I’ve lost all ability to convey my emotions in a rational way, with words, so I turn to angry flailing that approximates the moves I’m supposed to be doing per the screen. Exaggerated hip swings and kicks and grapevines, all with a big, sneering, fake smile on my face. As if the game could feel my mocking. As if I could hurt perky digital girl’s feelings.

I’m angry, I’m moving too quickly. I’m a klutz in general, but somehow during my erratic movements, I kick my own leg out from under me and end up in a heap on the floor. I’m stunned, wide-eyed. Confused. Am I hurt? No. Pride is hurt, though. And again, like a child,  I cry. Dogs poke noses into my face, whimper, try to correct. But I’m far, far gone.

I turn off the game. And cry. I take a shower. And cry. I grab a diet coke, settle into the ass dent, grab a dog. Cry. Bask in the never-ending sympathy of dogs. I wrap the disproportionate despair around me like a blanket. Twenty-five and twenty-six have been very weepy years. I’ve broken down and cried more over the past two years than I think I have my whole life prior. Including the infant years.

I could have avoided all of this if I’d done the tutorials. Learned the steps correctly, be able to identify when the game is telling me what I’m doing wrong and how to correct it. Instead, I went bold. Straight to the routine. Directions? I clearly don’t need that. I do this all the time. Bypass steps, overlook details, jump in without seeing if the pool has water in it. I think my ingenuity and quick thinking, my ability to comprehend and succeed in other areas of my life should apply everywhere.

Yet when I’m faced with a situation where I should use my intuition, trust my instincts and skills, I stall. Falter. Make lists. Contemplate. Make more lists. Hope someone else makes the decision. Take a nap. Clean the house. I need to learn when to pursue and when to back off. When it’s worth my anger and when it’s not. There’s nothing different in the world now because I wasn’t able to do an exercise dance routine the first time I’d tried. I could have chosen to have fun, but I chose to fall apart. I just hope I choose better in the future.

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4 Responses to “Temper tantrums”

  1. lifeloveandbaby December 22, 2011 at 12:41 am #

    What a great post! So honest, so silly, and so beautifully said. And I wish I could say I didn’t know what you are talking about, but I know all too well about faltering, making lists instead of doing, and cleaning the house. Well it’s the perfect time to clean the house when something (anything) else important needs my more immediate attention!

    • Cally December 22, 2011 at 2:55 pm #

      At least when I’m stressed my apartment is really clean? The decluttering helps me think. Yeah, that’s it….

  2. squirrel circus December 22, 2011 at 12:56 pm #

    I haven’t been on the Wii Fit in MONTHS, because it mocked me everytime I skipped a couple of days. It also refused to believe I was working out in 5 pounds of clothing. HA!

    Crying into dogs is a great comfort. Even though Bailey is not much of a face licker, he stoically allows me to cling to his neck and sob just about anytime I want. He’s shedding a LOT lately and I’ve had a couple of instances of literal “hairy eyeballs”, but it’s worth it.

    I’ve also discovered, as I suspect that you have, that any emotional distress that starts after 5pm has the magical ability to snowball into the biggest, nastiest, “my life is ruined” moment, when, if you can just hang on until the sun comes back up, it somehow doesn’t look as bad….

    • Cally December 22, 2011 at 2:59 pm #

      Wii fit and I fight because it groans when I step on it. Who thought that was a good idea??

      My dogs ate big face lickers, also whine when you cry. The smaller one pushes himself harder and harder against you, as if trying to burrow into you. I’m not sure where he got it from, but its helpful.

      And emotional distress is harder in the evening. Perhaps we all need to start napping around 3.

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