April 9, 2008


I can’t stand when people yell.

Not the “i’m over here!” or “Lookout for that runaway bus headed your way!”

that’s usually ok with me.


It’s the angry yelling, the fighting yelling, and the irrational yelling.

It makes me want to crawl into a hole and make it all go away.


Now you would think I grew up in a loud, yelling-filled household, with screaming parents, slamming doors and tension in the air.


It was quite the opposite, though there must have been tension.  It was quiet, calm and calculative.

Voices were rarely, if ever, raised, and replaced with a stern look, or a disapointed sigh (sighs are another day’s therapy session)

I remember having a yelling fight with an ex boyfriend of mine years ago, I believe it to be the one and only yelling fight of my life.
I don’t think I have recovered from that.  I do remember feeling relief at getting it off my chest, but to no avail, as that happens when you try to talk to a brick wall (a.k.a. bipolar pot head off his medication-remind me to cover that on another day…)

Instead of yelling, or raising my voice, I was taught as a child (for lack of better work… maybe shown by example?) that not saying anything was a safer route.  That way no one’s feelings got hurt, no neighbors would know that the picturesque Better Homes and Gardens house was not the fairy tale it should be.


Keep it in, don’t loose control, dont loose your composure.

When you disagree, meekly state your point in a mild, casual manner.

When you point is trampled over, ignored, or seen as silliness, smile and agree with your husband/father/brother/man/boss/boyfriend because he knows best.



sarcastic, but straight-from-the-fifties serious. 



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