I got to do some more sledgehammer therapy this weekend. I really do recommend this as a way to release tension as well as get a really good workout. In fact, I had to pause several times this afternoon to let my heart rate go back down (and to wipe the sweat outta my eyes).
This reminds me of past efforts to reduce frustration through physical activity. As a youngster, I occasionally chopped wood for the rarely-used fireplace when I was angry. The intense activity and controlled violence was quite therapeutic, and, even better, yielded a usable product. Sadly, my dad was not too skilled with tool maintenance and I quit using the axe after the head went flying off the handle one day.
As an adult, I discovered, entirely by accident, that I had a knack for making mosaics. This was a great discovery because it meant that I could violently break things without wasting them. It was perfectly justified because I was actually creating materials for art. Sadly, though, my mosaic materials proved too heavy to keep through multiple moves. (The move with 130 pounds of grout, and boxes and boxes of tiles almost broke up my marriage.)
This weekend, the sledgehammer came out again to knock old concrete off fence posts and break rubble up into manageable pieces. While I was doing the latter, my sweetie watched me with amusement. I stopped for a moment and told him, "We are not selling the sledgehammer. I know it's heavy but it's a heck of a lot cheaper than a psychiatrist!" He just laughed.
I should never have let him sell the hand sledge, dang it.