Last evening I lost my cool.
I mean – I really lost my cool.
My already bad week has been getting progressively worse, more out of control, more complex, and if not for reminding myself to take deep breaths and forge ahead, I would be accomplishing nothing.
At a time when getting things done is critical.
So I say to myself over and over: Take a breath, You can do it, That’s it, Make it work.
Yesterday involved my now daily trip to one of several branches of my local (big) bank, a stop by my accountant, and oh-the-joy of a police report as well. (Actually, that visit was handled very efficiently.)
After a project meeting and some work, two budding new issues arose out of the identity snafu-in-process, just as I was heading off to pick up my kid after a tennis match. All I really wanted was an Excedrin, and bed with the covers over my head.
Two hours of waiting later – due to a late bus and a lack of communication on my son’s part – I was at my wits’ end.
My head was pounding. I was hungry (having not eaten all day). I had to pee. I was sitting in a dark parking lot, irritated. Then the bus pulled up, the kids filed off, and mine promptly got into a nearby car with a friend and headed off. Say WHAT? I called him on his cell – no answer. I got out of the car and started yelling like a wild woman. I called him on his cell again, and yelled on voice mail.
I drove home, livid, arriving just as my son was being dropped off, and I started yelling again. Only now – at him – in person. Not my finest moment.
Sometimes it takes very little to tip us over the edge, though two hours of waiting (pointlessly) is no small thing when every hour counts and you need time to work, time to sleep, time to let your mind just “be.”
Frankly, this is one of the reasons that I tend not to judge people by one encounter or even two. As important as first impressions are, we never know what’s going on in the life behind the face – or if the straw that broke the camel’s back just felled the animal in question. And I wonder how many people are walking around reminding themselves to breathe, coaxing themselves through the next hour, the next afternoon, the next night. Trying not to crack.
While I know that my anger stemmed from my son’s perpetual absent-mindedness (which has improved of late, but certainly lapsed last evening) – and more so – from the unrelenting stress over a big company’s error which is no small thing, that doesn’t excuse bad behavior.
It explains it, but it doesn’t excuse it.
This isn’t the first time I’ve lost my cool, and it won’t be the last. But I don’t feel very good about that. In fact, I feel terrible. I’ve apologized to my son (who apologized to me as well), but saying I’m sorry hardly seems enough, even though it’s all I’ve got.
The real dilemma? I know full well we haven’t seen the last of those straws.
© D A Wolf
I’m sorry yesterday was so hard for you, but we all have these extreme moments. Don’t be too harsh on yourself for being human – I probably would’ve done the same thing. And I’m sure we’re not the only ones who would admit to that. Hope your day/week gets better.
Sorry about your day BLW. We all have these moments. And they are temporary. I try to just take a deep breath and hope that tomorrow goes better. Hope you have a restful weekend. If you need to vent, you know where to find me. xoxo
I don’t know – I think you might have been justified with that one. At least justified in being angry, although perhaps not shouting and yelling. Although I really can’t criticize, I’m sure I would have done the same.
I’ve been trying to figure out why I was so upset. And yes, Carol – I think I did have a right to be angry. Two hours of waiting – and a text would’ve told me “don’t wait, I can get a ride” or “bus late, we’ll be late.” That would have helped. But what set me off was that he was three feet away from me and never saw me as he climbed into someone else’s car and left. Just the night before, picking him up, I recognized him by the way he moved on the court – from very far off. A parent always knows her child.
I realize that as much as anything – I felt absolutely invisible – and to some extent – was. Not a good feeling. Still no excuse for the yelling, but not a good feeling.
Awww, sweetie. You are so hard on yourself. We all lose it, honey, and believe me, it has more to do with what’s going on with US than what the child actually did. Sometimes I’ll orbit over the least little thing, just because I’ve hit my limit. xo
God I hate that. Losing your cool is no fun. I feel terrible when it happens. And I feel like it happens too much. And it sets a bad example. And I have all the explanations too – and people would understand – but yes, it does not excuse it and that’s the part that hurts. Hurts me, hurts them. There is some give and take though – unconditional love goes both ways, no?
Yes – love and understanding go both ways.
I can only imagine what I’d do if I’d suffered the abuse you have lately, which is why I don’t own a handgun.
We’re all entitled to lose it on occasion or topple over the edge…not proud of those finer moment either, but yes, they happened on occasion. Same thing except I was on my way to the school and my son accepted a ride home…I waited an hour at the school, and came home to find him pacing the yard knowing I was having a conniption with worry. Back then, he had my cell and since I was empty handed he couldn’t contact me. Of course, I was more worried than angry and promptly burst into tears…outrage at his inconsideracy (is that a word?) and joy that he was fine. We’re human though and can only handle so much stress in one day. I hope the rest of your week is absolutely wonderful.
Ugh. Those days are horrid, and we feel horrid at the end of them. Here’s hoping a weekend to de-stress, rest, and otherwise regain your composure is what awaits you.
I can feel the frustration of your two lost hours. Even more, that sensation of invisibility. It’s more infuriating, I imagine, when someone you love makes you feel that way, even if for a brief moment.
I hope you eventually did get that Excedrin …
Always handy. . .
You are… human. This happens to all of us. And it feels crappy, yes. More than crappy. But it’s okay. You handled the aftermath well and here you are writing so eloquently and honestly about it. Not just human. Exquisitely human.
Any parent of teenagers has run into the same situation, you’re not alone 🙂 It was a waste of your time and reminding your son of his maternal communication responsibilities is all you can do, learning that they matter to you is never a bad thing.
I would also add that I genuinely hope WolfP removes any firearms from his home if any part of his comment is true.
Not to worry. That’s his sense of humor. I have it on good sources that he is a man who walks tall and carries a kind heart.
Aha. Been there, and still have SO MANY years ahead of it. I’m not very good in the forgiveness department, of myself or of others, but I’m working on it. We’re only human right?
Oh my, lol! My child locked me in the basement, she wouldn’t answer cell phone, or knocks on the door. Your phrase, “perpetual absent-mindedness” is also a familiar phrase with me!! Out of sight out of mind, totally invisible and inaudible, as well! Thanks for the laugh, considering my own brood. Best to you, always. LoL
I wish I couldn’t relate to this, but oh, how I can. We try really, really hard, but we all lose it sometimes. All I can say is, at least we have the hindsight to apologize – maybe without excuse, but I’m hoping the explanations help our kids learn something from it.