Me?
Angry?
No!
Of course, not!
Think again, Jan; you are angry. No! I’m just … Well, OK, I’m angry and it’s wisping out (which means my anger is evident and in direct contrast to my avowed image of being a peaceful Quaker).
What is wrong with me? I SHOULD have greater emotional control. Barbed comments in meetings do not align with my self-image of peaceful communication.
(Excuse me, thou art human; just a minor detail, of course.)
As you might have surmised, I’m struggling with temper control. Me! Temper control! Heretofore I would have considered loss of temper and Jan to be an oxymoron. Gone, gone, gone. And I’m incredibly self-critical because I seem unable to maintain my value of not displaying anger wisping out of my ears.
Calling a time-out. Need to stop, take a breath and turn to possible origins of this new behavior. Kind of a 180, but mysteries often are, aren’t they? Gotta go exploring …
Several years ago, I was diagnosed with the c-word. You know what I’m referring to, right? It’s not a word I like and do find quite toxic, but cutting to the chase — cancer. Now, we’re all on the same page, yes? Great.
Since finishing treatment and maintaining ongoing visits to multiple MD providers, I’ve had a much sharper edge to my temper. The kind of edge which, to some degree, mystifies me. (In other words, this is a new behavior to me, and I’m not a youngster.) The distance from being emotionally grounded to suddenly approaching the temper rapids is, well, very short. Sort of the proverbial 0 to 60 mph in seconds flat. And to top this off, braking my excessive anger is a real challenge. Like trying to contain liquefied quicksilver. (Have you ever tried??)
As someone who has a life-long fondness for maintaining self-control, this “0 to 60” emotional propulsion is perplexing and a bit scary. I have yet to be completely submerged in the rapids of temper, but, oy, what an EFFORT it takes to dog paddle away from the edge (and I was never a great swimmer to begin with).
OK, OK, here’s a question I’ve asked myself about this phenomenon. Am I angry due to the diagnosis? (That would be pretty straightforward, wouldn’t it?) And the answer is “no.” This propulsion of angry emotions first occurred two months prior to the diagnosis. (I’m guessing my body’s innate wisdom was already aware of the c-word, but my conscious mind was not.)
Where the heck does this leave me with my inability to fully control my temper? And yes, my less-than compassionate stance toward myself for actually having this experience of temper? Ouch, ouch, ouch.
Wouldn’t I just love a straightforward answer?
I don’t have one. Sigh. What I do have are these deeply hopeful words from Rainer Maria Rilke, the late German poet:
“Be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves … Perhaps you will then gradually, without noticing, live some distant day into the answer.”
Oh, so wish to easily check off instructive self-help items, in boxes, regarding the mitigation of this new behavior and it just ain’t happening. Couched in the context of Rilke’s words above, I’m on a journey of self-discovery.
Looks like I’ll just have to persist in discovering the answers, with love for myself, as this journey continues. Thanks a lot, universe.
Jan Hutton is a retired hospice/hospital social worker who believes in living life with heart and humor. She has happily lived in Chatham for 20 years.