Many of you know me personally. If you’re one of the lucky ones that do, you know that I’m a fairly emotionally calm person, on the outside. I don’t really know why, but ever since I was young I’d take pride in not getting overly excited in either direction, be it joy or anger. I’m not really sure why, maybe because growing up I realized that getting overly worked up about things, such as redfaced in ire over something trivial, isn’t, in my opinion, a good thing. Maybe I realized that screaming and shouting don’t really serve much purpose other than to simply be loud; it also, of course, just makes the other persons involved scream and shout louder too, because psychologically they feel like they’re being attacked in a way, and their defense is to do the same back.
Whatever the reason, my point is that about 98% of the time, I’m fairly calm, cool, and collected, and the other 2% is the extremes I’ve been talking about, because, well, let’s face it – there’s a time and place for everything, even redfaced ire. This has both helped and hurt me. In my professional life, in all the jobs I’ve had I’ve had to deal with an above-average amount of either pissed off or borderline psychotic people, and routinely get commended at my current job for being able to control myself when I get irritated or pissed off. But it has also hurt me in many ways, whether it’s the Christmas present I’m given and the giver thinks I’m not grateful for it because I’m not whooping and hollering and crying tears of joy, or the significant other who raises a concern, possibly with the intent of starting an argument, and I’m able to not scream and shout, which ultimately ends up in me being accused of not caring.
So a quick word on that: Whether I show it or not, I’m pissed. I’m irritated. I’m grateful. I care. How can you know? Because I say so. And even though I’m not throwing things across the room or squealing with joy, just take my word for it. Because when it comes down to it, I’m positive you’d prefer that to the over-the-top alternative. Moreso with the getting angry part, because, as I’m sure my mother would attest to, I had a wicked temper growing up, and managed to get that in check somewhere around late high-school, and don’t like turning back into that rotten (and often violent) child I was with that bad temper. Though I will admit, sometimes it is necessary, because sometimes words just don’t work. And when people see this that never have, the reaction is the one you want – those people won’t fuck with you anymore. That’s all.
Slapbacks