Road Rage

My anger could kill me someday. That’s what I realized today as I tried to recover from a self-inflicted near-stroke. I thought my head was going to explode. At least that’s what it felt like. This wasn’t during the anger and road rage. It was about 3 minutes after the incident. Let me give you some background.

I have struggled with anger management issues most of my adult life. When I was in my 20s and 30s I enjoyed the feeling of righteous indignation. This didn’t come from a religious grounding, it came from my own ego. When I was at my maximum anger, I felt powerful and confident. I KNEW I was justified in whatever I was mad about and in my level of hate. I was right. You were wrong. I can say whatever I want, because I’m right.

I didn’t question whether I should be yelling at people. If I was right, and I’m always right, then it’s not my problem if you can’t handle the truth. Ironically it was when I was working for the post office that I was forced to confront my anger. “Going Postal” was a catch-phrase for committing workplace violence. I was never violent. I have never punched someone in anger. Felt like it, but never have.

So it was during my first anger management peer group session that I finally started to question myself about my anger. There were people of all ages and ethnicities in our group. We talked about what we’ve done, what we’ve been through, and what the repercussions were for ourselves and the ones we love. To say it was eye opening is an understatement. It was a revelation.

Even with that revelation, I was a slow learner. I wasn’t yelling at my boss, but road rage was nearly a daily occurrence. Somebody cut me off? Ride that S.O.B.s tail. Someone driving slow in the fast lane? I’ll go around them, sometimes on the shoulder! I’ll get in front and then jam on the brakes. Why? To teach them to not drive slow in the fast lane.

Sometimes, believe it or not, people got mad at me! We would play stupid games and nearly get ourselves or those around us injured or killed. Why? Because these ignorant dumbasses need a lesson! I don’t know if it’s because I got older, but my body started reacting to these high-stress situations. When the adrenaline wore off my back would spasm. I could feel my heart beating hard in my chest. My head throbbed with pain in time with my pulse.

So for over 20 years now I’ve been wrestling with my inner demons. I’ve come to recognize the the situations that trigger a near-instant retaliation for a perceived insult or lack of fairness. If I’m centered and grounded or just in a good mood I can now let them roll off my back. So what happened today?

It started with a typical trigger. I’m slowing down to make a right turn at a stop sign. As I get to a few hundred feet from the stop sign, I see the car behind me change lanes and accelerate to get in front of me. Oh no you don’t! I sped up to try to block them, but they were able to get in front of me. Ok dumbass, you’re in front of me now. Hope you’re happy. You’re obviously in a big hurry.

So what do we do at the stop sign? Well they make their turn because nobody is coming. It’s Texas so the speed limit for this road is 70 mph. What does Miss In-A-Hurry do? Slowly, very slowly, accelerates in the lane in front of me. It’s 2 lanes each way. I go around. Now the fun begins!

As soon as I get back in front of her, she accelerates to get in front of me. As she passes I see her turn to me, yelling and flipping me off. When she’s in front, I do the point at my head and twirl my finger as the international symbol for your crazy. She must not have liked that because she hits her brakes and we play the tail-gate game. She’s a rank amateur. I’m a pro. She thinks she’s going to impede my progress by driving slow in the fast lane? That’s why there’s a shoulder, so I can pass you on the left, silly!

I wasn’t really mad. At least I didn’t feel angry. I was kind of mad, but I wasn’t seeing red and completely out of my head. I knew that I had started it. I shouldn’t have accelerated at the beginning before the stop sign. That was petty. I knew it before we got on the highway. I was definitely on her ass as we started accelerating. That’s why she was going slow. She was paying me back for trying to keep her from passing me before the stop sign.

The stupid road rage games made me miss my exit. She got off at the exit and I drove on to the next one to circle back. As I was taking the exit, I started to feel my pulse pounding in my head. I started to get a little nauseous. The pressure in my head was unrelenting. I was actually frightened I might stroke out. It took a good 15 minutes or so for the pressure to ease and my heart to stop pounding.

Wow. What an idiot! That lady wasn’t to blame. It was me. My fault. I started the games. I continued playing the games. As they say, “Play stupid games, win stupid prizes.” My lack of self-control almost killed me today. I’m almost 60 now. Is that how I want to die? A stroke caused by my reaction to what someone else did? No.

I’m going to learn from today. I’m going to appreciate the luck I had that today wasn’t the day I died. It gives me a chance to reflect on what I’ve learned about myself over the years. I’ll accept that I’m going to screw up and learn from those screw ups. I can see that I’ve made progress in managing my anger. My goal is to never go through that again. Next time? I’ll strive to not be petty and just let the morons be morons. Wish me luck!

Daily Writing

Now that I’ve established the expectation for myself to write every day…it’s a chore! Gah! I hate this feeling. When I’m not typing, I’m thinking. I’m always thinking. But isn’t everybody? Don’t you think about what you did, what you’re doing, or what you’re going to do all of the time?

Ok, so maybe not all of the time. That’s why we like good books, movies, or tv shows. They take us away from our lives. We stop thinking about ourselves and get sucked into the drama, we get inspired by beauty, love, or some virtue, or we go through a roller coaster of emotions because we’re empathizing with characters in the story. Sometimes, we escape because we don’t want to think about the past, present, or future.

I was asked why I want to blog. I want to be understood. But there’s more than that. I want to be appreciated for my uniqueness. I’m a man with unpopular opinions. I don’t choose to believe the things I believe because they are unpopular. I feel like I’ve arrived at these opinions because I am willing to explore uncomfortable truths. Or at least uncomfortable for the majority of people I interact with.

Over the decades, I’ve felt like I’m on a mission to find the truth. What truth? Reality. The cold hard facts of life.

So anyway, I’ve got these opinions see. I want to write about the things I think about. I want to write about science, philosophy, religion, politics, and many other things that pop into my head. Believe me, they’re popping in and out ALL of the time!

Which is part of the frustration of sitting down to write. Thoughts have been going through my head all day, but now that I’m here behind my keyboard I can’t think of any of them! So frustrating. Hours ago when I had some good thinking going on, I didn’t want to stop what I was watching to write.

I was watching a documentary on Netflix called Everything and Nothing. It was a very well produced science program about the Universe (Everything) and what “empty” space is like at the sub-atomic level (Nothing). Now, if I was going to write about that, how would I go about it? Am I going to try to rehash the whole show? I feel like I have to in order to provide context for what I was thinking while I was watching it. But that would be exhausting and I couldn’t do as good of a job as the production team that put the show together.

Ok, so I looked back at the beginning of this page. Daily Writing was my title. I didn’t sit down prepared to write about anything. I just had put off writing all day, knowing that I was “supposed” to write something, and then decided to quit putting it off. So I sat down, got out the keyboard, and started writing whatever was in my head at that moment.

I should probably take some writing classes. I should watch YouTube videos on how to create a “successful” blog. I should read other blogs to see how they do it. But I won’t. Or I might start to watch a video and then get bored and quit.

So here’s where I feel like I want to explain why I’m like this. But to be honest, I’m not exactly sure. Trying to figure out why I am the way I am has been my life preoccupation. When I’m not thinking about other things, I’m thinking about myself. ADHD, PTSD, OCPD, Anxiety, Self-Esteem and Depression. These different diagnoses, both self-diagnosed and doctor diagnosed, have filled my life. There’s something fundamentally wrong with me. I go back and forth between trying to “fix” or at least improve myself, or trying to just accept the way I am and move on.

I don’t want to plan, but then again I want a plan. I want my life to be more organized so I can accomplish the things I want to do with the time left. But I don’t want anyone to tell me what to do. Apparently that includes myself. I can’t make myself do what I want to do. I want the dishes done every day. But I don’t want to do the dishes. I want to eat healthy meals, but I don’t want to prepare and cook food. I want to be in shape, but I don’t want to work out. I want more money, but I don’t want to work for it.

It’s not laziness. That’s what I’ve called it, along with my parents when I was younger, all of my life. Occasionally, I’ll get super motivated and finish most of the things I’ve put off. But I won’t finish everything and then dishes will sit, clothes will stay on the floor where I dropped them, and I’ll leave any other lingering tasks for the next time I feel like doing them.

I say it’s not laziness because I’ve seen a lot of YouTube videos and Facebook posts about Executive Function. People like me have a mental problem, not a personality defect. Even though that’s what I was brought up to believe about myself. I know intellectually that I have a complex personality disorder. I know that I’ve gone through trauma as an adult and as a child. But I feel like any attempts to explain the causes of my behavior are just finding excuses for being lazy.

Fake it ’till you make it. I hope that by just powering through and writing something everyday, I’ll be able to improve. If I try to plan what I’m going to do, I often don’t even get started. I quit during the planning part. But I know that if I don’t at least write, if I don’t at least get something down, I’ll just lose interest in the attempt at having a blog. I have so much I want to say it’s often hard to choose one thing. Look at this page. There’s no planning. There’s no real topic. But I’m tired of writing now, so this will have to do.

One last thing. I started writing about my thoughts about the Starship launch last night. I know I need to finish it. I hate the thought that it’s not done and I have to go back to it. Isn’t that nuts?

Effectively Homeless

I woke up at 5:30. I forgot to take my Bipolar Meds so I had a buzz in my head. I took my meds and fell back asleep and woke up about an hour later to the sound of Bro stomping up and down the RV. BA spent the morning yelling at him until it was time to go to school. When she got back she cried by herself in her room.

I’ve spent the morning in my shade tents watching INSP, drinking coffee, and vaping THC. It’s 78F heading to 100+. I’ll spend the day out here with a fan.

I’ve lost most of my motivation to do anything productive. I work because I have to so that we can stay here. This is the best I could do, to get BA into her own place. This is what she asked for, but it isn’t going to work. Bro’s behavior is worse not better. We hope that medication will help, but I think the problem is beyond her ability to cope with.

It’s 6:30pm, Thursday, July 14, 2022. It’s 101F. I am effectively homeless. I live next to the RV, not in it. I take a shower every 3 or 4 days, using wet wipes for daily maintenance. I have an ice chest now, so I have cold milk, sodas, and mayo. I couldn’t keep it in the fridge, because Bro gets into the fridge dumps out things, drinks from the milk container….

Bro won’t keep his clothes on. I can’t do anything about it. I can’t even babysit. BA doesn’t trust me. She’s afraid my anger will have an adverse effect on him. Even though she yells and slaps him (gently). It’s ok. I don’t think there’s anything she can do. Well, not until she allows someone to help. Maybe CVRC?

He sleeps in the front, she sleeps in the back, and I sleep outside. I live outside. But it’s ok. I could drive every day and sleep in a hotel. I don’t want to work that hard. This is where I belong. If I wasn’t supporting BA & Bro, I would be in an apartment, or trailer, in Florida.

A new beginning

I’ve wanted to have a blog for many years. What I’ve wanted to blog about has changed over the years. I think what I want to do is tell my story. I want to write about what I’m thinking about. Lately, that’s been the past a lot more than the future.

Inspired by Derek

Well I’ve finally entered the 21st century, 11 years late. I feel like I need an outlet for my thoughts. I don’t get to talk to people about politics, religion, and such. I don’t have much experience with blogs. I know of them, but haven’t followed any.

I plan on writing about what I think and feel. Sort of treating this as a diary that I’m sharing with the world.

At this moment I’m at one of my son’s chess tournaments. He loves playing in these, but doesn’t really practice much. He likes the competition and camaraderie of being on a team. If I was more focused on my children’s success I would spend more time coaching and making him practice. But I let my kids find their own way. If I was more convinced that I knew what was best for them I’d take a firmer stand.

I spend a lot of time looking for news, photos or videos of my dead son-in-law Derek. He died Dec. 6th, 2010 a day before his first son was born. He was shot in the head by a sniper in Sangin, Afghanistan. It’s the worst tragedy I’ve had to deal with. I hope that he didn’t suffer. But his absence has left a huge hole in the fabric of the lives of the people that new him. The background picture of my phone is of him and my daughter smiling at the camera. What every father wants for his daughter is for her to meet and marry someone who makes them happy. Someone that they can build a life with and share themselves with. Someone who helps them become a better person. He was all of that and more for Kait. The sense of loss I have for what should have been has been debilitating for me.

Derek is the inspiration for this. One night after talking with him, I can’t remember the details of the conversation, he said, “You should write a book!” At first I thought he was pulling my leg, but he insisted I should. For months after that I wondered what would I write? What about our conversations did he enjoy? Was he saying it just to make points with his father-in-law? But after his death, I read a quote of his. I don’t know if it originated with him but he said, “Don’t look down on a man unless you’re offering your hand to help him up.” He was a natural leader by all accounts of the people that new him. He inspired people to do more. So I trust that he wanted me to do something with these thoughts that rattle inside my head. I don’t think he would agree with a lot of what I want to say, but as the saying goes, he’d fight to death for my right to say it. And as is typical of Derek, he didn’t just say it, he did it.