Monday, March 12, 2012

My Temper and why I don't lose it

I've only lost my temper twice. That was twice too many times. I've been angry sure. I've yelled a bit. I argue a bit. But not to an extreme.

The first time I was in junior high. My brother and his buddy decided it would be fun to go into my room and tear down all the posters from my walls. I walked in to my room and saw the posters ripped to shreds on the floor. The boys took off before I could see them. I took a walk around the block just trying to calm myself down. It didn't work.

I came back in the house through the garage and saw the boys in the basement. I grabbed the nearest thing to me, my yellow plastic hockey stick and started hitting. I don't even think I even said anything before I started swinging. My brother was behind his buddy. His buddy was three years older than me and on the wrestling and football team at high school. Also taller than me by at least half a foot. I remember him laughing at me trying to hit him in the head and at that point, the rage took completely over. When I came back to my senses, his hands were bleeding down his arms from protecting his face. I was so shaken at my own violence, I threw down the hockey stick and walked away. I couldn't trust myself not to pick it back up.

The boys got in trouble as did I.  I believe the boys got it a little worse than I did but I don't remember for sure.

I hated that I did it. I hated that I totally lost control. In that moment the only thing I could think about was hurting them. I just wanted blood. That's not me.

It was years later when I was 18 that I lost my temper again. I had my new car that I was paying for and was mine alone. My little Geo Metro stick shift. I miss that car. My brother was home from college for the summer and since he had totaled the Tempo he took down with him, he depended on rides from me and the parents. I was a little annoyed that I had to go out of my way almost every day to take him to work and back but he threw me gas money. And it made it less of a burden on the folks.

He was working with my friend Jen at the coffee shop and asked me to borrow the car to get to work. He wasn't great at driving a stick and I always warned him not to park in this one section of the lot since he could roll into the guardrail if he wasn't careful.  This was my car and I didn't want my insurance to go up.

He asked to borrow the car for the next day and I said no. I would take him in, I had things to do that day. When I woke up, he was gone and so was my car. I immediately called him at work and lost my mind on him. Did he know I could have his ass in jail for stealing my car? Why didn't he wake me up? I told him I needed MY car not his car not the family's car to run errands. How dare he just take my car. I told him he better leave work and come bring it back to me. He said he couldn't leave work it was busy and no one could cover. I told him it would be a cold day in hell before I let him in my car again.

I called my friend and had her drive me over to his work. I had calmed down a good bit by then and my friend Jen was working. He handed over the keys and apologized saying he couldn't wake me up and didn't want to be late for work. I just gave him a death look and talked to Jen. Jen and I started goofing around in the back room and spritzed each other with the sink hose. Then since I was laughing and joking, Bob thought it would be cool to join in the fun and he tried to squirt me. I lost my temper. Grabbed the first thing handy which was a broom and started hitting him while screaming loud enough that the whole block could hear me. I called him every name I could think of and repeated that he was lucky I didn't throw his butt in jail for car theft. I told him where to go and how to get there.

Jen was standing in the doorway just openmouthed and staring. I told Bob good luck on finding a ride home and walked out. I went to my car. He had rolled it forward into the guardrail and torn off the front license plate. I stopped myself from going back down and kicking his butt some more.

I calmly informed my parents that he wasn't getting in my car ever again. He could find his own way around and showed them the damage. My mom and dad tried to reason with me saying it was so much easier for me to drive him to work than it was for them. I told them I didn't care. He had no respect for my property and I was his sister not a chauffeur. He lost his privilege to use my car ever again. It wasn't my problem how he got to work. I got there in my car that I paid for. He didn't set foot in my car for the rest of the summer.

I haven't truly lost my temper since. I'm scared to. That doesn't mean I don't get angry but I don't get physical about it. I walk away rather than throwing down. Because next time I may not be able to stop.

1 comment:

  1. I'm going to correct/amplify some details here. ;)

    "My brother and his buddy decided it would be fun to go into my room and tear down all the posters from my walls."

    Not all of them. But all the New Kids On The Block ones. (Which doesn't mean we were the least justified.)

    "My brother was home from college for the summer" No, this was after college, in the spring of 1999. I only worked Bess Eaton from January until May.

    "He handed over the keys and apologized saying he couldn't wake me up and didn't want to be late for work."

    Quite true, after trying several times to wake you up. You were deaaad to the world. I tried; it was take the car or be late. (I should've been late instead; but you know the Armstrong Work Ethic. We show up on time.)

    "He had rolled it forward into the guardrail and torn off the front license plate. "

    I had? You never told me that part. Seriously, you never mentioned any damage to the car. Urgh, I apologize for that. :(