An affable veneer

I hate, hate, hate how angry I can get.  It almost makes me afraid sometimes.

Most people are a little incredulous whenever I make any sort of mention of this.

"You, Simon?!  Noooo.  You're such a gentle man."

Yes.  I am. 

But I let my frustrations get the better of me, unexpressed at the time, and they then have the habit of lying in wait, completely undetected in some acidic recess of my belly, festering, until the perfect triviality traipses along toting a detonator switch, taunting me to gently push it down until that innocuous 'click' sets me off.

I remember coming home from work last year after receiving some rather unwelcome news and punching my left hand bloody against the door of my armoire.  It's hard to make that sound very manly - punching an armoire.  Are-Mwahrrrrr... 

I remember getting right pissed off at our Jack Russell terrier last year and kicking him.  I actually wound up and punted our 10-pound dog for irritating me.  My wife didn't speak to me for a day.

The past couple months I've come very close to doing some sort of physical violence on our new puppy.  How wonderful does that sound?  Physically assaulting a puppy simply for lack of time to have more properly trained her. 

I feel frustrated for working too many hours, frustrated at coming home and making dinner for my son and then for Amy and me and frustrated at finishing the dishes at 11 at night in a somnolent stupor and feeling some anger directed at my PREGNANT WIFE! for not getting them done for me.  And I feel frustrated that our entire back landing is one massive piss-stained carpet from now two puppies, and frustrated at waking up in the morning to find three steaming turds by the back door (we only have two bloody dogs!) and throwing the concealing mats in the washing machine for the fourth time that week and coming home from work again to find the Diaper Genie has been compromised and there are several ripped-up diapers strewn about the back yard with my son's shit now mixed with the dog shit minefield and... Jango!  What the f--k is that you're chewing on?!  That is so f--king disgusting!!

Just this morning, after cleaning the back landing once again, where our puppy has made the habit of dragging branches in through the dog door and chewing them to itty, bitty, BITS, I replaced the shop-vac in the garage and gave the door a satisfying slam behind me as I headed back to the house.

BANG!!

CRASH... Shatter!!... Tinkle, tinkle, tinkle...

"F--k."  *sigh*

The ten minutes I spent with broom, dustpan and garbage bag ensuring I meticulously cleaned up every last fragment of glass from the side door of the garage was actually fairly cathartic.  Being that intent on a single, uninterrupted task gave me more focus than I'd had for the previous entire week.  Sort of ironic, given the events leading up to it.

And so when a four month old puppy jumps up playfully at my knees while I'm sitting down for the first time at ten PM, finally able to eat my own dinner, my unthinking inclination is to lay a smack-down on her floppy-eared skull.  Because, you know, that'll make me feel better.

Deep.

Breath.

God grant me the Serenity to accept the things I cannot change,
Courage to change the things I can,
And the Wisdom to know the difference.

Comments

[BOB]

I hear your pain.

I think it is a esential part of being human to admit that we get angry, rip roaring, nail biting, fist through glass angry.

It is what we do with that anger.

Most times I vent it out in some mostly harmless way. Scream lyrics to songs. (I have turned some Nicklecreek songs into angry anthems) Just attack a project with an unholy fury. People have told me that I would have a heart attack by age 30 if I did not learn to calm down. Guess I am already dead a decade now ;) I find venting quickly immeadiately keeps me on an even keel.

I try very very hard not to take it out on someone physically.

I have two small dogs, both 1 year or less. One has the potty training thing down. Open the door she goes out. Took her all of 2 months to figure it out. The other loves to be outside, then immeadiately comes in the back door, runs to the front door and does her buiness. SCREAMING mad some days.

When you are aware of your self like you are, it is easier to deal with. The idiot who gets mad and rather than think drinks it away is the one I worry about.

Warm furry bunny slippers.... ripped to shreads in your bare hands into little tiny shreds.

Take that deep breath, close your eyes and picture that pair of smiles you love.

BOB

[Tina]

My way of handling my anger? I swear ....loudly, and ALOT. And then I swear some more. But lately, I've taken to doing it with an Irish twist. " YE FOOKIN GOBSHITE YE ". Oh, I love it when I can make the F-word sound so melodious. Tina

[Simon]

Thanks to both of you. There are definitely other, BETTER, ways to deal with anger. Especially the sort that men typically keep bottled up because they're manly men and don't want to let it get to them. I mean us. I mean me.