So, I am struggling along.

This a.m. Charlie put the little netbook on top of my portfolio.  I did not notice, and we left.  When we came back, I freaked, and pulled it off, warning him that such a practice could indent the surface of the album.  I then noted that it had already begun to do so slightly.  He felt awful.  It was an honest mistake.  I as proud of myself – back when, I would have snapped, or at least been pissy or pouty for a short time.  I got that from my dad.  When I would f@ck something up, it didn’t matter if it was an accident, or not.  I was in trouble, anyway – for not paying attention, or being more careful, or whatever.  I was rarely hit, but it did happen, and wrongly so, at least once (I had not even done the thing I was struck for, in my dad’s case, and it was just nutty, unwarranted behavior with both my mom and my older sister – they were prone to such things) with each of my immediate family members. 

If I had screwed up something that mattered to my dad,. even slightly, I would have felt so badly to begin with – and then, he would have come down on me.  And, then, I would just be miserable – my dad had a way of speaking to you that just made you wish you’d been spanked instead (and I was punished – usuallly grounded or restricted in some way – my parents were incredibly strict when I was small). 

It wasn’t until recent years that I figured out, mostly in dealing with Charlie, that the temper I had developed by observation (becoming like my dad through learned behavior) was messed up and hurtful – that it doesn’t make sense to lash out at the people you care about when they screw something up by accident.  It’s just…  mean.  So, I told him it was no big deal.  And, the damage is pretty superfiicial.  I doubt most people would ever notice.  I was displeased, but I could tell he felt so bad.  I had no desire to make that worse.  And, then, I actually felt good about the fact that the matter was swept away quickly, and we were able to proceed with a nice brunch (with an episode of DS9, of course). 

I don’t know – it’s a small thing, but when I thought about how bad I would have felt, if I had been getting scolded by my dad for something similar as a kid (and I can think of such incidents, of course), I would have felt like such shit.  That’s so unnecessary.  And, it was wrong.

I don’t want to be like that, and I won’t be – not anymore.

My life has jacked me up, a lot, and I have lost control of many things in my life, but there are some things I DECIDE, and this is one of them:

I don’t want to be angry, anymore.

Anger is sort of the rougher, more defensive side of fear, and…   I don’t want to be afraid, anymore, either.  Just like, I don’t want to hate, anymore…

It’s not that I am going to forgive everyone who ever wronged me, but I am not going to project any energy into those emotions, whensoever I can avoid it.  I realize that this might not often be the case, at first, but I think I will get to a place where I can minimize these destructive influences.  

If I can ride 500 mi on a bike in six days, and f@cking kick heroin, I can do whatever the f@ck else I have to do.

Now, I just have to figure out what that is…