Do you ever have those moments where you are angry and you find yourself spewing out more than a few choice words over the silliest things? To the point where it’s irrational and you know it? Well, I’m not exactly proud of it, but it’s happened to me on more than a few occasions, especially over the past few months. As of late, I’ve also adopted this weird humming tendency when I’m mad. It’s somewhat under my breath and CLEARLY not a happy kind of hum. I think the humming was an initial attempt at calming myself and trying to regain my equilibrium; instead, it simply acts to fuel my mood further. Go figure!
Strangely, I have an extraordinary amount of patience for some of the more difficult demands in life, but very little patience with others; specifically myself when I forget or do ‘stupid’ things—often precipitous to my cranky mood. Add in feeling tired and worn out and it seems to be a lethal combination for seeing instant and varied shades of red. The thing is that I am aware enough to know how ridiculous my behaviour is in those moments in time, but it’s almost as if I just need to get it out of my system before I can move on. It’s fine if I am by myself when that kind of mood strikes, but if I’m around others, then obviously it’s a different story. No one else wants to listen or watch nonsense like that, including me. Yet, I find myself going there and then I get mad that I’m so mad. How do you win that one? Well, you don’t. Then again, if someone like the Grinch can manage to find his smile thanks to little Cindy-Lou in Whoville, there’s hope for me.
The good news is that despite how I am feeling, I can manage to put things in perspective. Case in point: “People around the world are dying and I’m choked that I don’t know where I put my keys?!? Like, let’s get real here.” An episode of lost keys doesn’t need to turn into a full-out production of four letter words and seething humming, that’s for sure. Yet, that’s exactly what happens before I can manage to let the rational me back into the decision-making process. Until then, if I am interrupted in the moment or ‘reminded’ to calm down, it simply exasperates things. Obviously, there’s a pride issue at stake, but it also simulates a return to childhood when a scolding was commonplace for misbehaviour. Of course, it only stands to reason that if you are acting like a child, you should be treated like one, but irrationality greys that logic.
Thankfully, my little fits don’t last long and I think I’ve become better about my recovery time. Since I can’t even stand being around myself when I get that way, there’s no point in perpetuating the situation. I need to acknowledge it, move through it, source it, DEAL, and get on with things. Sometimes, however, the issue is that I can’t really pinpoint why I am so bent out of shape. Sure, I might be tired, even ‘hangry’ when I get home late, for example, but it’s as if every now and again, I get “a bee in my bonnet”—a general irritation, if you will. Like an itch you can’t scratch. While I’ve always been impatient with myself long before COVID-19 such that I cannot blame the pandemic (darn!), I have noticed that I’m more touchy about things since our first lock-down in March. Likely, my year-long struggle and recovery after ankle surgery hasn’t helped my situation. That being said, I am a grown woman and there are no excuses for throwing a temper tantrum of sorts when something trivial goes wrong. I have a choice in how I handle things that go awry and it is me and only me who can change my mindset, hence the outcome. The rational me knows that the more negative I make of a situation, the more negative energy I bring about and then it becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy. What a non-productive cycle that is! On the other hand, it often does feel good to rid myself of any underlying anger since bottling it up only breeds more inner resentment as I’ve learned. I suppose there could be worse things than a few non-lady like words and some ridiculous humming.
At the end of the day, I am responsible for my behaviour and my choice of action in response to a particular stimulus and I need to hold myself accountable for those choices. I cannot blame anyone or anything else, including my Aunt Millie, my childhood circumstances from 1982 or COVID (darn again!) for that matter. Period. Hmmm…. come to think of it, it’s too bad that not everyone comes to a similar conclusion about themselves (i.e. those in government who appear to have their own, very unique and twisted set of principles which elicit a set of four-letter words unto themselves) that I will NOT fall victim to. At least not right this minute… 😉.
Where is that bee at, anyway?