This has been one of those mornings where I'd prefer the daily grind of an 8-5 job than to be working from home and taking care of 2 kids.
Zachary (now 8 weeks old) can scream and scream and scream when he's upset, so it seems that he's carrying on the genetic gene-of-wrath that has passed from my grandfater to my father to me and my brother. All morning long, the kid's been at it. And it's been incredibly difficult to keep my own anger in check. After all, this is a 2-month-old. You can't reason with a 2-month-old. You can't scold him. You can't calm him. You can't make him understand it's going to be okay because...he's 2 months old. All I can do is sit there and try to cope with the noise...waiting for the moment to pass. But when every moment of newfound silence is pierced by yet more screaming, my blood starts boiling, knowing there's nothing I can do to change it.
*I love this kid, though. When he's not screaming, he's got a great smile and a really cool 'curiousity' as he stares wide-eyed at the world around him. I could live in those moments foreer. And even when he's screaming, I most certainly would never hurt my kid...there some lines you simply do NOT cross. But I understand anger...and how it can spin out of control...and that's probably why some people do hurt their kids. But what a selfish act...what a cowardly act...adults asserting their will violently over people who can't even fight back. I've known enough people who were products of some abusive households...and decades later, they still reel from the pain.
Still, my own anger scares me. It scares me that I have this monster inside me that can be very difficult to control. It's taken years and years (and a lot of destroyed friendships) to get it under control...and even now, it feels like it's lurking under the surface.
I've blamed my temper on ADD. I've blamed it on depression. When you get down to it, it's simply because things didn't turn out like I wanted them to. As if my will is the only thing that matters. Screw yours. Screw everyone else's. All I care about is how I feel at this moment.
I used to punch things. I've put my fist through sheet rock. I've tried to put it through a jagged brick wall, where all I did was create a blood-gushing wound on my right hand - making me even more angry. I used to go outside as a teenager and hit a tree with a baseball bat. In college, I would chase down cars that cut me off in traffic...and attempt to cut them off. I would lock myself in my dorm room and crank the stereo loud enough to drown out the noise. I would park myself behind my keyboard/synth and write songs...songs that started angry, but usually turned mellow...that was ONE thing that usually helped me calm down back in those days.
In college, I gained a nice group of friends my freshman year. Then I lost all of them. I was an 'unsafe' friend. I had to start all over. And with a lot of God-intervention in my life, I was able (over the next few years) to wrestle the beast within under more control.
But it's still there...like all sin...daring me to feed it.
Something breaks...the temperature goes up. I get interrupted when I'm doing something...oooo...don't do that. Too much noise. Too many bills. Can't get anything done that I want to/need to get done 'cause I'm having to try to console a screaming 2-month-old.
The more I think about it, the more worked up I get about it.
To fix this wrath, I spend so much time in the pursuit of making my circumstances better. As if having quiet children, good friendships, and no bills are the keys to it keeping my anger under control. Sure that would help, but the real problem's not with the world around me (though it does suck at times). The problem is internal. I'm just 'wired' to explode. Take away all I have that makes me angry, and I'm sure something 'new' will.
I've tried escaping it. I packed up and moved away from Birmingham -in part- so I wouldn't have to be readily exposed to an environment that caused me so much pain (and anger). Now, having been here 3 years, I've learned that there are ALWAYS things. Waiting. New things. New temptations to release wrath...
But I desperately want to be the kind of guy who's at peace even when the world around me is going nuts. I want to be that kind of husband...that kind of father...that kind of friend.
I want to be 'slow to anger' when my kids are screaming and crying...when we get that unexpected bill from the anasthesiologist...when scheduling issues make something as simple as lining up a band for sunday morning become less than 'easy'...when my wife is cranky...when people drop bombs of criticism...when I'm tailgated on 565 and pushed to 90mph by some snobby teenager frustrated that I'm not going 95 (or higher).
Maybe hypnosis. Heh. I want to be Peter in the movie 'Office Space.' Hypnotize me. Let the world around me suck. I'll be just fine with it. Well, I guess I'd still want to care about some things. But I would like to be that laid-back.
Better yet...make it permanent. Make it a heart-change that lasts.
Right now, my house has become quiet again. Zachary's asleep and Kailyn's playing with one of her birthday presents on the floor next to me. My internal temperature has dropped to normal.
And I feel like such a dork for letting it all get to me in the first place...
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