Working out helps a lot. Lifting hard clears my mind and gets rid of a lot of aggression. I suppose there's an element of solitude in exercise. Another thing, which I don't have access to at the moment is walking the beach with my dog. It's good to forget that one is human for a little while to run in circles and battle the ocean. Surfing is good too, but it's so rare that I get an opportunity to play around in nice waves. I think love can work, as long as it's in a positive place. Though, conflict can recharge my batteries, but often in all the wrong ways. Rage is great fuel, but only if one is willing to sacrifice things, especially human contact and understanding. Often I find that cooking for myself can also be meditative, as can baking. Today to relax I made some thyme biscuits. 2 c AP or ideally, winter wheat flour (you want very low gluten content, for height and flakiness) 1 tbsp baking powder 1 tsp salt (fine) 1 stick or 1/2 cup (imperial) cold butter (unsalted, or salted if you like them saltier) or rendered animal fat (chicken works well) 2 tbsp fresh thyme 2/3 cup (Imperial measure) buttermilk or milk with 1 tbsp lemon juice (adjust salt as needed) Preheat oven to 425F. Work dry ingredients (including thyme) and butter until sandy, largest pieces of butter no greater than the size of a pea. It helps to put the thyme on the butter before working the mix to get the flavor well-distributed. Then, refrigerate for at least 30 minutes. Use just enough milk/buttermilk to bring it all together in a shaggy mass. Gently pat out and fold into 3rds and pat out/roll again several times. Then, cut into small rounds. Brush tops with melted butter or milk and bake until tops are golden.
I think because I'm spectacularly lucky to have houses. This is the first time a house of mine sank. The other time it was just trashed by a psychopath - But yeah, holes do seem to be a theme. I wish I had pictures. The house might be 150 years old. Under the sinking corner of the kitchen, was another floor of rotten wood. The sinking floor had just been built on top of the water damaged floor (caused by flood or plumbing malfunction). Beneath the rotten wood floor was the original floor and three layers of linoleum. I have homes, it's true, but I can't seem to get myself a smart picture-taking telephone and instructions on how to post these. Perhaps in the next decade. Correction: "Psychopath" isn't fair. A person who stumbled into adulthood with a barely diagnosed psychiatric disorder would be more accurate.
Note: While I am still potentially a magnet for the disordered, I'm learning to run the other way.
This seems tangentially related at best, but nonetheless this comment reminded me of something, and I'm always one for suggestions. One of my absolute favorite comic book authors/artists, Sam Keith, did a short series called Zero Girl, about a girl with an affinity for circles, which protect her, and an aversion to squares, which attack her. Somehow your mentioning of holes being a theme and people with psychiatric disorders triggered that for me.