My New Mantra

Via Eric Zorn's blog today:

Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle . . . Plato

Anyone who has tangled horns with me in the years since my father's death will understand why I want so very badly to live this phrase. Dad surprised me by dying six and a half years ago, when he was 56 and I was 29. Afterwards, I was, unsurprisingly, numb for a period of many months. I felt soft and vulnerable after that, not unlike the interior of an exposed wound. I was sensitive and patient, didn't sweat the small stuff and readily excused the frailties of others, knowing that they meant nothing when one could die tomorrow. Sadly, that feeling wore off at some point (I'm not sure when) and left me smack in the middle of what has now been a years-long phase of alternating between being a winsome, belly-laughing person who is all-too-beloved by my friends and a tantrum-throwing too-big-to-be-a-toddler girl who is highly pissed off at losing her father when she wasn't expecting it.

When these tantrums occurred, I would watch, stunned, as if standing outside myself. I was perplexed to see the embarrassingly furious person (me) taking her unidentified anger out on some poor soul, but was utterly unable to stop the carnage. This caused great heartache for me and sometimes, I am sure, extreme embarrassment for my friends who witnessed it. It always resulted in hurt/annoyance for the person on the other end, I have no doubt. Because that person was typically a stranger, I was not around to see the aftermath. But always--without fail--I was disgusted with myself afterwards, wondering what went wrong and how I could stop it from happening again.

I only recently realized why I am so easily angered. My guess is that there is no one cause. Partly anger at losing my Dad. I am trying to work through this, with partial success.

Another probable cause is my anger at being left with my mother as my only parent; she is like an alien being I do not understand, and whom I am not altogether sure actually loves me. I am altogether sure that she does not see in me what my father saw--while he saw my faults, he loved me despite them, the one person in my life in whom I have found the unquestioning acceptance I crave so deeply. I have tried to deal with this by expecting less of her, without much success. I then tried to discuss my issues with her, with even less success. She was willing to discuss briefly, but obviously does not understand my concerns. I am figuring out what to do with this, but don't know yet.

The other part of the equation is the one most recently discovered--my total lack of fulfillment found in the work I do--that can only be changed by a total career and lifestyle change. As I have referenced in other posts on this blog, I now know what I need to do career-wise and am finding some peace in having come to that realization. But while I bide my time until I can make that move, I still feel like a tiger pacing in its ugly and outdated concrete cage at the zoo, wondering what it will take to escape. In the meantime, I want so badly to stop swiping my paw through the bars while people who had nothing to do with my capture stroll by on their way to see the elephants. Hopefully, Plato's wisdom will help me in my efforts.

P.S. If any of my "victims" happens to read this nearly-invisible blog, please accept my humblest apologies. I am so sorry for any pain I may have caused you.