Doors Are Meant to be Slammed

Hello.  My name is Mildred Santiago. I am a door slammer.

Have you every slammed a door in anger? It’s a liberating action.  I particularly recommend it when one is very angry and cannot think of how to respond to that person who has caused the anger to grow to a point where one is about to erupt like hot lava. Yep.  Don’t tell me you have never gotten to that point at least once in your lifetime; I am not going to believe you.

            I started slamming doors by accident when I was an adolescent.  During my time (the time of Classic Rock & Roll), if we dared to retort with a smarty response or maybe even ignored whatever Mom or Dad  mandated, for sure it meant some sort of physical punishment.  No, they were not abusive but they did use the belt whenever necessary and back then there was no 911 to report them.  At times the anger I suffered was because of a denied permission to go out with friends or a threatening warning about having a boyfriend (totally unacceptable, even if he was from the same church we attended).  It was very frustrating, to say the least, especially since I had to keep my mouth shut in the face of this fascism.  One day, as I stomped back to my bedroom, I was so furious that I unintentionally slammed the door shut. Bang!!! I surprised myself with that action and then immediately thought, either Mom or Dad will be here any minute to question the slammed door action.  But no, they did not question my action.  That single act of unintentional anger outburst gave me some relief and from then on I sporadically slammed the door to my bedroom.  I understood I could not abuse this manifestation of disagreement with the tyrannical forces, so I used the door slamming outburst only when absolutely necessary for my mental health.

            As an adult one would think that it is not necessary to slam doors anymore, after all, we are mature persons who can communicate our differences in a logical, peaceful manner, especially with that person who is only related to me by a legal document, not by birth.  Right?  Wrong!

There have been moments, albeit infrequent, where again my only resource short of throwing dishes, cups, or vases, is to slam a door; not just any door, specifically the door to our bedroom.  It is still very satisfying to experience the power of a slammed door.  The release of frustration, anger, and helplessness accrued during a discussion that only served to highlight the fact that I am a woman and he is a man, is astonishing. My spouse clearly understands what the loud bang of a slamming door means.  He backs off and then we both give each other time and space to cool down and think about what happened.  The issue remains quietly on the table for a few days or even a week or two before we decide to address it again, this time in a more calm and understanding mode.  I call it creative anger management.  It is better to slam a door than to throw breakable objects that may hurt my spouse or me.  I just want him to realize that the discussion pushed me to the edge; that I suddenly found myself cornered and speechless and did not like it.  Emotionally, it is a situation that takes me back to when I was a powerless adolescent, something that I cannot allow.

            We all get angry at one time or another (hopefully, infrequently) and we need to release our anger or pent-up frustrations. For now, slamming doors works for me.  In the future, who knows, I might take up kickboxing!

             Slamming Doors

I was fourteen, I was in love,

at least I thought I was.

But my love was forbidden,

a la Romeo & Juliette.

“Too young, so naive,”

Dad would say.

“You don’t govern yourself,”

Mom would say.

But still my heart beat faster

each time I saw him,

my first love.

Frustrations, thoughts of a life unfair

cluttered my mind.

I felt my powerlessness,

but dared not talk back,

 that is, until one day,

frustrations running high,

I marched to my room and

slammed the door,

slammed hard,

slammed real hard,

almost off its hinges hard.

Such power!

Such show of force!

Such defiance!

I even scared myself, but felt oh, so good.

A mystery to me my parents let me live.

Today I don’t slam doors as much,

but have been known to slam a few.

Perhaps a need to show who I am,

make clear my stance,

demand respect.

And so, I vouch to you, my friend,

that powerlessness is momentarily mitigated

by simply slamming a door.

But remember,

make sure to slam hard,

slam real hard,

almost off its hinges hard!