I had no idea of the extent of my rage until I threw the first punch. The act of completing the arc of the swing, the impact echoing up my arm, uncorked a virulent pit of anger that I had never been able to reach before. Not in therapy, not in active meditation, not in kickboxing. It was like shaking a piece of moldy, ancient fabric clean under a jet of water only to find out that the fabric is, in fact, black even under the black mold.