Inside you, is a Bull

Ever since I was a young boy I was destructive.

I didn't know why I was, I just was.

I'd break toys, rip up drawings I just made, or even rip up the carpet in my room or stab my furniture with scissors or whatever I could get my hands on.

I didn't know how to contain this destructive feeling.

One minute I would be a normal kid just playing like any other kid. The next, I'd be breaking something and then crying because I broke something.

It was definitely a problem.

At first my Ma said I would just grow out of it. She just let me be that way.

But, it didn't go away, it only got worse until eventually my Pa got me up out of my bed before the sun even rose up. He paraded me out across our farm to the pastures that flanked us. He picked me up and set me down on the wooden fence that penned in our cows.

He was quiet, and I was quiet.

I was too tired still, rubbing my eyes and starting to feel that prickle of anger because of it.

Maybe he sensed it because after a minute he put his cowboy hat on my head; it was too big and fell into my eyes unless I held it up.

He was looking out into the pasture, the profile of his face was angular, lined with age. The sun slowly peeked up over the mountains and drenched the world in pink, yellow and orange.

'I know how you feel.' Was what he said, his voice quiet, his whole body leaning forward on the fence.

I didn't think it was true. No one could know how I feel.

But, he kept talking, and his low rumbling tone kept me quiet, 'I used to be that way, as a boy.' He continued, 'It took too long for someone to pull me aside and make sense of it for me.'

'Who helped you?'

'Your grandpa.' He said and there was a rare smile on his weathered face. 'Want to know what he said to me?'

'Yes!' I said, awake now, over eager.

'He said to me, I know you got a bull in there. Deep inside you. It snorts and stomps and is full of demands. I know it makes you cry and makes you sad and most of all, it breaks everything you try and build.'

'A bull?'

'Yeah.' He said, pointing out into the pasture, picking out the stud of our herd. He was big and black and his coat shone like obsidian in the morning sun. His horns were curved forward, white among the curtain of night; his body stout and muscular. 'You got a bull in you just like our Bill over there.'

'Really?' I asked, but didn't entirely believe it.

'You have to learn to live with it. Gotta nurture it, coddle it, keep it calm.' He said, 'The bull acts out when it's not getting what it needs.'

Just like Bill.

Our prized bull would run the length of the fence when he was angry, he'd kick his feet in the air, he'd gore the ground with his horns. Most the time it meant he was hungry, or needed attention, or a good scrub down.

'How do I feed it if it's inside me? How do I bathe it?' I asked, my face scrunched up; wanting to believe it but not entirely understanding it.

My Pa laughed and turned his kind brown eyes on me, 'With how you act. When you feel it prick you with his horns,' He pinched my arm and I laughed, 'Just like that, you gotta breathe deep. You gotta imagine yourself petting the bull down, feeding it it's favorite treat, you gotta just co exist with it.'

'Imagine the bull?'

'Yes.' He said, 'Now close your eyes. Picture the animal in there, right in your chest.' I felt my Pa's broad hand on my chest, 'Breathe with him, calm down with him. Can you do that?'

I tried real hard to imagine Bill, but inside of me. I pictured myself there, feeding him a bright red apple, brushing down his coat and scrubbing down his horns. The more I imagined the less I felt that prickle, and eventually it was gone entirely.

I wasn't mad I woke up early, I didn't feel the burn in my butt from sitting on the fence too long, I didn't feel the fatigue in my feet from walking this far out.

I could feel the sun on my skin, could smell the fresh dewy grass and could feel the breeze whisper through my hair and ruffle my clothes.

When I opened my eyes I saw my Pa's smiling face and I couldn't help but smile back, 'That felt good.'

'Remember that feeling, remember how to get to it.' He said, 'Remember, you're in control of the Bull, it's not in control of you.' He patted my shoulder before he helped me off the fence.

'Thanks Pa.'

'Now,' He said, pushing the hat down over my eyes and making me laugh again, 'If you ever have any more trouble, just come to me, alright? I'll help you keep that bull tame.'

I reached for his hand and he accepted mine, we walked back towards our house, Ma was standing on the porch, 'Okay, I'll come to you.'

'I have a feeling though,' He started and I looked up at him, 'That you won't need your old Pa's help. I know you're strong. I know you can do it on your own.'

I felt a thousand times lighter, like I was floating right there next to Pa. I liked the feeling of pride, of accomplishment; it felt a lot like the feeling I got when I helped on the farm. I wanted to have this airy feeling forever.

I would tame the bull.

I was in control.

It wasn't going to tame me.