Temper, Temper

Years ago, I had a horrific temper.  My kids used to run in fear sometimes, and I swear that there were moments where I sort of stepped outside my body, and watched this mad harpie screaming and spitting and turning beet red.  It wasn't too fun....

Then, something catastrophic happened in my life and my temper seemed to melt out of me, replaced by a melancholy and hopelessness that was easier (I think) for everyone else to deal with, but it weighed more and never really subsided.  It was, however, easier to cover up.  That temper stuff jumps and dances around, and you can't really throw a blanket on it and pretend it isn't there; the other, though, is sedate and morose, and it will never try very hard to fight out from under whatever you toss over it.  It doesn't have to, because it knows that it has an indefatigable grip on you and it'll never give up.  In the case of depression, slow and steady wins its race.

Today, a drop of liquid set me into a rage.  One drop.  Now, granted, it was a drop of pee on the toilet seat, and so it was annoying, unnerving, wet, freaked me out, you name it.  I found myself in the bathroom shouting, "F*%kin' A!" at the top of my lungs, wiped off the damn seat, finished my bathroom business, and then left the house.  I was frightened.  I haven't felt that kind of anger in years, and it scared the hell outta me.  So, I did what any self-respecting post-menopausal almost-50-year-old woman would do: I went to a craft store.  Now, a couple hours and $32 later (everything was on sale!), I am back at home, calmed down, and trying to accept the fact that this may not be the last time.  Maybe the beast is back.  Then again, maybe that also means that all those other jumping, shouting, hard-to-contain emotions are back as well.  Maybe even joy?

Well, well, well...welcome home...

Visibility

One of my sister's highest criteria for rating a new car is the visibility.  If she cannot see properly (for her) out the back window, side windows, mirrors, or windshield, she simply will not drive it.  As I get older, I more and more agree with her.  I currently own a convertible Toyota Solara and, even though I love the car, I am getting crankier and crankier about its lack of visibility.

I think that I also, as I get older, am more intolerant of my lack of life visibility.  When I was younger, it was just fine that I couldn't quite see well enough out of the vehicle that is my life.  Don't know what's ahead?  No problem - I'm sure we won't crash.  Can't see behind me, in case I want to back up?  Who cares!  But now....well, now I just want to have a clear windshield and be surrounded by life's windows. 

Even if what I see isn't perfect, at least I'd have time to steer around it, or decide how to navigate.  But seeing nothing?  It's scaring the hell out of me.  I am in some sort of armed vehicle with nothing but a crack in front of me to peer through, and even that is often obscured by the dust of the road ahead (or perhaps battles just fought).  I am finally at a place where I need to SEE, dammit!  If not, perhaps it's time to pull over, pile out of this car, and go get a new one. Maybe the paint won't be as shiny; maybe it'll be a cheaper car (or perhaps the payments will be so high that I'll find myself really just scraping by).  But I'll know what's coming, and when I get into the garage at night, I'll sleep more soundly and be prepared for the next day, and the one after that.

Just sayin'...