The poem in the previous post by Jack Prelutsky really struck a nerve. When I was a child my mother screamed and beat me if I dropped some milk or juice on the floor. I was terrified and would retreat inside myself. If someone yells at me now sometimes I’m passive but mostly I yell back. In the future I will try to remember to say “Don’t yell at me!
Every once in a while I yell at usually at a family member who won’t listen to me. One time my son Michael (he picked his alias) wouldn’t clean out the microwave. I asked him about six times to clean it, but he wouldn’t do it. I have a soft feminine voice so I deepened my voice and screamed in his face. It startled and scared him. As a child he was rarely yelled at. After that he almost always cleaned up after himself. Sometimes I need to yell because that’s the only way to make people listen, but I wish I didn’t have to.