A Perfect Storm

I didn’t know what else to do … so I screamed.

Then I took a big cleansing breath, maybe two … and I screamed again.

Do you ever do that, something that is truly harmless and benign, yet if anyone else were around, they’d wonder––or maybe worry––about you? Well, this was one of those times. I was alone, in the privacy of my home, and I just needed to let off the valve, to ease the pressure of everything that was happening.

It was a perfect opportunity that had been placed right at my feet; one that doesn’t come along often. And that moment seemed like the perfect time.

So, I seized it.

And though it’s possible that on a normal, quiet evening on our street, someone might have heard my screams and shouts as they walked their dog or relaxed on their patio, I knew they’d be none the wiser of what was going on in my living room. Because on this evening, strong thunderstorms were battering the area with torrential rains, high winds and hail.

So, my screams––and my secrets––were safely living with me and me alone.

I needed it, this yell fest. I was due, maybe overdue. It was brief, a minute or less, but it helped knock off some of the messy residue that had built up in recent weeks on my mind and in my soul; some of it little and ordinary, just common, everyday stressors. But some of it was bigger, complicated and more daunting, as things in life can be.

So, through the tornado watches and thunderstorm warnings, amid the rain coming down in sheets and the wind rattling the trees, I stood in my house, safe and dry, comfortable and alone … and I screamed at the top of my lungs.

Maybe this isn’t common for you, to exorcise the things that have been plaguing you in such a visceral, primitive way. I get it; it's not for everyone. Most of the time, it’s not for me, either.

But on this night, just like the weather people were saying, conditions were right for a storm.

And I couldn’t let this storm inside me continue to rumble and quake while I tried to push it down or ride it out. I needed to let it pass, or more to the point, force it out of me.

And I did, alone and, ironically, in the quiet of my own home. With no one to hear me; no one to wonder about me. And no one to worry if I was OK.

Because I was OK. And I am OK. I just needed to scream it out.

After it passed, I felt much better, and I moved on with my evening, just like we all did after the storms outside passed through the area.

© 2026 David R. Haznaw