Your Fuse...

I am outwardly the world’s most patient man. Inwardly, I am the person who posts here.

 

I surprised myself with the amount of patience I’ve shown as I’ve gotten older.

My temper was pretty bad when I was younger. Now, I don’t ever really get mad, but I’m very quick to cut people out of my life. I’m too old to spend my remaining time here with people I have to work hard to be friends with.

 

Only time I ever raise my voice is when the dog steals the cat's food.

And then the dog gets smothered with affection afterward anyway.

 

I was defused long ago.

 

My temper getting out of hand is one of the things that led me back to a psychiatrist after a decade-long break.

I work from home and live alone, so most of the world never sees my shit fits. But when work frustrations mount or I’ve been doomscrolling, the forehead veins start constricting and I feel rage boiling over like a cauldron. Honestly most of the bile I spew comes out on this here message board.

One day soon after I had started back on bipolar meds but before the dosage was anywhere close to effective, I got so incredibly upset with an obstinate customer that I kicked a door in anger. So now I have a broken toe to remind me that something dark looms inside and I need to keep putting in the work to keep it chained in the cellar.

But as far as my daughter and church family know, I’m a mensch and a Dude.

 

I've always been told you give other people permission to treat you the ways they do. Seeing how and when I let people get to me often makes me angrier at myself than them. Yesterday was a pretty intense, "please stop poking me" day. I ended up raising my voice and then feeling shaky about it for the rest of the day.

 

I'm getting weird in my advancing age.

Mostly I don't let things bother me. I don't stew, nothing simmers for a while or boils over. If I can't fix it or control it, i don't worry about it.

Except for the times I snap suddenly. And then I just explode.

I don't know why. I'm not proud.

 

I have to keep my temper in check. Otherwise, I would be mad all the time when I drive because my city has lots of ........ bad drivers.

 

As I’ve aged into my early 50s and gone through the highs and lows of raising our children, I definitely have mellowed out. By and large I have stopped “sweating the small stuff” … with one notable exception.

I’m still the same self-described “Asshole at the Wheel” that I always have been as a driver. Thankfully I drive as little as possible, and rarely in big city traffic anymore.

As several friends have told me over the years, when I’m driving is the only time they “see the Chicagoan come out.”

 

I never erupt over a singular event. I'm literally the guy who says, "Welllll, it could have been worse." "Hey, y'all, the building is on fire. I guess we better get outta here."
What sets me off is a repeated buildup, thus my Mt. St. Helens comment. When I blow, it can get ugly and violent. To my credit, two minutes later, I'm looking around at people saying, "What's with those looks on y'all's faces? Is it time to eat?"

 

I'm similar to most of us, I guess. After five minutes, cannot remember what it was that riled me up.