Forget spinning or yoga or meditation, I have stumbled upon an act of self-care that knocks the others out the park: the rage breakfast. So effective that, by rights, it should become… all the rage.
Here’s how it goes: before the days gets to you; while you are still – relatively – young and fresh and full of hope; before work sinks its teeth into your diary and your soul, find a couple of like-minded Midults, arrange a ‘meeting’ (that’s how it will appear in your shared calendar), sit down, get a caffeine hit in the pipeline and… rage. Rage with joy. Rage without shame. Rage about the others. Rage about yourself. Rage about money and men and politicians and shops and the weather and your skin and your bra and what’s on telly and books and music and avocados and bosses and underlings. Give it the full ‘AND ANOTHER THING…’
And you will leave – relatively – full of love and light for one with a spirit that tends to get weighed down with gloom and panic. You will have just done cardio for the soul. Because when positive thinking isn’t working and you suddenly can’t relate to all the ‘nice’ people (don’t worry – they’re not that nice), you need an outlet. One that won’t destroy relationships, sabotage careers or get you arrested.
The rage breakfast will set you up for a day of – relative – serenity. In with caffeine, out with chaos. Clear the negative to make room for the positive. Feel less alone. On a plate.
