2 Ways to Deal With the Bitch Inside

April 9th, 2012

I have a new Monday Sin I’d like to deal with:  Anger.

I lost my marbles on the train platform at the Grand Canyon Saturday.  Actually a more astute phrase might be “I went batshit crazy.”

I was furious at Henry because I thought he’d made us almost miss the one train out of Dodge that afternoon.  I’d been sitting in the train depot waiting for what seemed like hours (maybe 20 minutes) for him to show up with the girls from a quick lunch they grabbed while I was in the Hopi House buying over-priced flinty arrows.

I didn’t use the arrows on Henry when I finally found him and the girls, but I did use the word “fuck.”  Twice.  Attached variously to “what the…”  and “… you!”  I did this loudly.  In front of the girls, a compartment full of chortling passengers and one stupefied ticket taker.

The worst part of this story is how good Henry is.  I know it must sound like bragging when I say that I don’t know a better person.  And here’s the other thing.  I don’t think of myself as an angry person.  I don’t yell at people.  I’m not a name-caller.  I don’t hit or throw things.  This to me was aberrant behavior.

I’ve since apologized to both Henry and the girls.  I also attempted to engage the ticket taker, but he backed away, his eyes pinpoints of terror and ducked into the toilet when I tried to corner him at the buffet.

Last night when we were talking in bed Henry wanted to know what triggered my Jerry Springer moment.  I explained, sloooowly and LOUDLY, as though he were deaf, how I thought he made us almost miss the train.  But Henry, being annoyingly astute, said there had to be something larger at work.

So I wrote this first list today:

I’m angry that we don’t know what our income will be this year and I blame Henry.

I’m angry that we need to budget.

I’m angry that I have poor business skills and haven’t figured out how to make a better living as a writer.

I’m angry I have such a hard time saying “no” to things I don’t want to do.

I’m angry that I can’t seem to get a handle on my eating, spending and drinking.

I’m angry that I’m angry about these things.

Finally I’m angry at myself for losing my temper at the people I love the most.

 

Then I wrote a second list to heal and forgive myself a little:

I’m grateful for Henry and my girls.

I’m grateful for our beautiful home.

I’m grateful that we’re all healthy.

I’m grateful we love hanging out together.

I’m grateful we don’t have huge careers right now while our kids are young.

I’m grateful we.  have.  enough.

I’m grateful for this blog which gives me the chance to process my journey with friends.

 

I’d love to hear how you deal with anger.  (Unless you don’t ever get angry in which case you should lie and say you do.  Just make something up.  Anything.).  Have a wonderful week and expect some vagina humor soon to offset any unintended gravitas.