Day 254

Shame. Last week I was consumed by white hot fury. Unbridled rage. Now, 7 days later, what I feel most is shame, mixed with a little undercurrent of sadness.

I have worked really hard the last few years to gain agency over my temper. Therapy, self-help books, no alcohol – I've done them all. I thought I had been successful. Well, to a degree I have been successful, but if last Monday showed me anything it's that my work in this area isn't done. Far from it. I still have the capacity to go nuclear and to burn bridges with the blast heat of my rage. Another thing that I don't like this about myself. Making it even harder to accept is knowing how I feel when I'm on the receiving end of such an outburst. I worked with a guy for many years who ran hot, always just a few degrees below a full boil, simmering. A little push in the wrong direction and it was the full-on theatrics and tantrums of a recalcitrant teen. And that's where I was a week ago. Replaying the highlight reel from last Monday's meltdown is painfully embarrassing, but the best thing I can do is learn from it - my mistake - and strive to be better as I go forward. 

In my journey about how to process anger and adversity, I learned the important distinction between reaction and response. Reaction is primal and emotional, like fight or flight - we don't chose to react, we are along for the ride. Response is the opposite of reaction. It is the ability to remain in control and to make a conscious decision about how to handle a situation, having agency over the choices we make even in the most difficult of circumstances. To achieve true agency over oneself is to be able to respond in all situations and circumstances, never to simply react, even if that means saying or doing nothing for hours or even days until objectivity is fully in control. (Admittedly, there are certain exceptions where reacting without thinking is definitely the proper course of action but that is outside the scope of tonight's post.)

Suffice it to say, last Monday I reacted – poorly! –  to information that wasn't to my liking or didn't meet my expectations. Was I entitled to feel the way that I did? Not sure, the word "entitled" being a bit loaded; but I do think it's ok to feel anger, disappointment, frustration, sadness, etc. That is what being human is being all about.  While it's ok to have feelings, I have to remind myself that I shouldn't be ruled by them. So why do I feel I shame now? Mostly because I know I hurt someone that has been really good to me. And because I acted like an entitled asshole. 

Losing Damian taught me a few things, one of which is that life isn't fair or unfair, it just is. To that end, I can't control other people. What I can control is how I respond - not react - to events and changes in circumstance. I got furious because I let my sense of entitlement get out of control. No one owes me anything - not my boss, not ETI. If I don't like something, or don't feel valued or heard, then it's up to me to change my circumstance so it's more agreeable, or at the very least, palatable. And this is where I made a series of mistakes going back several years. There have been several times beginning the summer of 2016 where I felt the urge to walk away from ETI. But I stayed. Why? Call it a blend of laziness, fear of the unknown and the promise of a better tomorrow, mostly measured in financial terms. In hindsight, I should have listened to my instincts. 

There are aspects to my job which I very much enjoy just as there are people that I truly respect and would walk through fire for (figuratively speaking). And then there are the people I would prefer not to deal with and the burden of the baggage I've accumulated over the last few years that I continue to lug around with me on a daily basis. I just didn't realize how much these things had been eating at me until I forced myself to examine the causes of last week's meltdown. The bottom line is that this one is on me. 

So now I wear the crimson face of shame. It will fade in time (thankfully) but it's going to be awhile.