When it comes to medical questions, I’ve generally found that one of two responses usually clears up most matters:
#1 – “It’s just gas!”
#2 – “Put some hydrogen peroxide on it.”
Things aren’t quite as clear cut when it comes to matters of the heart.
Steering a relationship is much like driving a car, as you drive down the highway of life, you must constantly make these nearly imperceptible corrections at the wheel. Eventually the culmination of all this invisible navigation will get you where you need to go.
Lately I’ve been trying to work on some anger management.
Growing up, my parents constantly fought. It was quite a conflicted household. If they weren’t fighting with each other or my brother and I, then they were embroigled in some boisterous palarva with my grandparents. If it wasn’t with any of us, then it was probably with a waitress at the local diner – usually involving the unacceptable temperature of the soup of the day. You see, my parents enjoyed a hot soup – very hot…SUPER NOVA hot. In fact, if they were ever served up a broth boiling at anything less than the heat index of the surface of the sun, it would send them into fits of apoplexy.
As a result I’ve pretty much avoided soups all my life – but I digress.
Out of all this turmoil, I’ve been left with a quick temper that just leaps out inappropriately the second I feel frustrated. It’s been a major bone of contention with practically anyone I’ve ever gone out with – my current girlfriend being no exception.
The other day she broke down and bawled to me that she couldn’t take any more of my yelling. The girl was visibly upset… I felt horribly. She doesn’t deserve to take the brunt of all my pent up ire. So I’m making an effort, seriously giving it a go, taking a breath and counting to ten. I’m not gonna lie, sometimes it’s tough. It is modifying an intrinsic behavior. My response to most anything is to get angry. On top of everything, I have a naturally loud voice which makes me sound angry when I’m not, and angrier than I am, when I am in fact angry.
Still, yelling at the girlfriend is sort of like yelling at a helpless kitten, it tears your heart out – unless of course that kitten is being a total asshole…fucking kitten.
Deep breath…
I”ve still got some work to do.
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