Anger Mismanagement
I’ve wanted to write an entry here for some time, but each time I attempt it here at work, my anger or busyness take over. I hate it when I feel overwhelmed at work. And I have been extremely pissed off ever since I got back from a four-day visit to a huge city far away from here, a city which houses many many of my friends. I’m exploring the reasons for my pissed-off-ness, and there are many. I’m trying not to hurt too many people during this period, but I don’t think I’ve really succeeded. Here are some examples of how bitchy I’ve been:
1. Several days ago near my house. I was attempting to have a five-minute conversation with ex-fling while walking the dog on my lunch break. Since ex-fling doesn’t work or seem to need to be anywhere EVER, he clearly didn’t understand that I needed to go back to work or people were going to wonder where I was, because it’s a JOB—you know, that thing grown-ups have. Here is the humiliating transaction:
He (referring to a book that I’ve wanted to read for awhile but haven’t had time for): Have you read this? I think you would really get a lot out of it now.
Me (in a sudden and forceful bitch voice): No. I don’t have time to read. I have that book but I haven’t been able to read it yet. I have like 4 hours a week that I can read.
He (clearly wanting to engage me in a long conversation about a book I haven’t read even though he knows I have to go back to work: starts talking about it as if I have not said the above).
Me: I said I don’t have time to read that right now. Anyway, I’m sick of reading books by men. I’m actually kind of sick of men (sinking sick feeling over how mean this sounded).
He: Maybe you could read at work. (What?? Did you not hear that mean thing I just said? No. It’s called selective hearing and it’s turning out to be a defining characteristic of ex-fling).
Me: I have to WORK at work (in head: you dipshit). That’s what you do at work (though I actually do about 5 hours of real work in a 9-hour work day). I have to go. I’m going to be late. (Turn and walk home quickly, dragging my poor little beast who didn’t even have a chance to pee).
If I really wanted to analyze this, I could: I’m projecting all of my shit about choad’s shabby listening skills; I’m upset because I spent four wonderful days with REAL friends who reminded me that I barely know ex-fling; I keep hanging around ex-fling to gather anger ammunition so it’s easier to stay away from him but this is CLEARLY using him in a bad way. I need a break from him. I need a break from all people I don’t know really well, I think. How long am I going to be a hermit? Maybe forever.
2. Getting into my car at the godawful hour I have to leave for work:
Neighbor: Are you going to vote today?
Me: No.
Neighbor: If I tell you who to vote for, will you go vote for my people?
Me: Uh, I don’t think so. I don’t feel like voting.
Neighbor: Come on, do it for [Name of this shithole town].
Me: Fuck [Name of this shithole town]. (Nervous laughter in an attempt to counteract the meanness of this statement. But I do hate it when people try to force me to vote for a judge in a town I'm leaving in 3 months).
Neighbor: (Nervous laughter).
3. In ex-fling’s house trying to explain to him how I feel because I’m such an “open” and “emotionally honest” person:
Me: (Silence, trying to think of the right words to say) I feel….I feel…
He: You feel resentful?
Me: No. Shut up. Don’t tell me how I fucking feel. (The next day, after I apologized for telling him to shut up, he said “You didn’t tell me to shut up.” But you, readers, see here that I did, so you know I’m not crazy and that he has these weird listening issues).
Several minutes ago I was explaining to a coworker about how I’ve been so mean lately. I said, using my best Al-Anon language, “I mean, I know that no one is responsible for how I feel. I decide how I feel about all of these situations…but I keep wanting to blame someone else…”
She interrupted me: “What are you talking about? Other people are COMPLETELY responsible for how you feel.”
And then we laughed for about five minutes. Because this really is how I feel right now, as much as I want to be healthy shrew. Right now I’m just pure concentrated shrew. And if you’re not me, there’s a chance I think you’re responsible for how I feel about this.
1. Several days ago near my house. I was attempting to have a five-minute conversation with ex-fling while walking the dog on my lunch break. Since ex-fling doesn’t work or seem to need to be anywhere EVER, he clearly didn’t understand that I needed to go back to work or people were going to wonder where I was, because it’s a JOB—you know, that thing grown-ups have. Here is the humiliating transaction:
He (referring to a book that I’ve wanted to read for awhile but haven’t had time for): Have you read this? I think you would really get a lot out of it now.
Me (in a sudden and forceful bitch voice): No. I don’t have time to read. I have that book but I haven’t been able to read it yet. I have like 4 hours a week that I can read.
He (clearly wanting to engage me in a long conversation about a book I haven’t read even though he knows I have to go back to work: starts talking about it as if I have not said the above).
Me: I said I don’t have time to read that right now. Anyway, I’m sick of reading books by men. I’m actually kind of sick of men (sinking sick feeling over how mean this sounded).
He: Maybe you could read at work. (What?? Did you not hear that mean thing I just said? No. It’s called selective hearing and it’s turning out to be a defining characteristic of ex-fling).
Me: I have to WORK at work (in head: you dipshit). That’s what you do at work (though I actually do about 5 hours of real work in a 9-hour work day). I have to go. I’m going to be late. (Turn and walk home quickly, dragging my poor little beast who didn’t even have a chance to pee).
If I really wanted to analyze this, I could: I’m projecting all of my shit about choad’s shabby listening skills; I’m upset because I spent four wonderful days with REAL friends who reminded me that I barely know ex-fling; I keep hanging around ex-fling to gather anger ammunition so it’s easier to stay away from him but this is CLEARLY using him in a bad way. I need a break from him. I need a break from all people I don’t know really well, I think. How long am I going to be a hermit? Maybe forever.
2. Getting into my car at the godawful hour I have to leave for work:
Neighbor: Are you going to vote today?
Me: No.
Neighbor: If I tell you who to vote for, will you go vote for my people?
Me: Uh, I don’t think so. I don’t feel like voting.
Neighbor: Come on, do it for [Name of this shithole town].
Me: Fuck [Name of this shithole town]. (Nervous laughter in an attempt to counteract the meanness of this statement. But I do hate it when people try to force me to vote for a judge in a town I'm leaving in 3 months).
Neighbor: (Nervous laughter).
3. In ex-fling’s house trying to explain to him how I feel because I’m such an “open” and “emotionally honest” person:
Me: (Silence, trying to think of the right words to say) I feel….I feel…
He: You feel resentful?
Me: No. Shut up. Don’t tell me how I fucking feel. (The next day, after I apologized for telling him to shut up, he said “You didn’t tell me to shut up.” But you, readers, see here that I did, so you know I’m not crazy and that he has these weird listening issues).
Several minutes ago I was explaining to a coworker about how I’ve been so mean lately. I said, using my best Al-Anon language, “I mean, I know that no one is responsible for how I feel. I decide how I feel about all of these situations…but I keep wanting to blame someone else…”
She interrupted me: “What are you talking about? Other people are COMPLETELY responsible for how you feel.”
And then we laughed for about five minutes. Because this really is how I feel right now, as much as I want to be healthy shrew. Right now I’m just pure concentrated shrew. And if you’re not me, there’s a chance I think you’re responsible for how I feel about this.
posted by Julia Story at 6:27 AM
2 Comments:
Oh, my dear! Come back! I love and miss you. I understand how your world has been turned upside down and inside out and blown six ways to Sunday. Just being with you made me feel it in a new way not experienced over the phone or in type.
Also, regarding your post and your alleged meanness: you are an extremely sensitive person who constantly makes herself available to the needs of others. But fuck that as a demand or an expectation. You're not being mean, you're being honest.
I think what I really want is permission to be a total asshead, maybe not to actually BE the asshead. So I'm giving myself permission. And hanging out (virtually) with chicks like you who also give me permission.
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