When you wake the beast!
I have stated that I am not a violent man, but every man, violent or no, has his breaking point.
When S wants me to do something, or in this case, not to do something, and she says, “You can’t,” instead of “Please don’t,” it is liable to arouse my anger. And it was so. She told me I couldn’t do a certain cleaning job a certain way. Why? Because of an accident. Something that happened that could have happened to anyone. She told me to do it a different way. I got mildly annoyed.
When I stated to her that if she would simply ask me not to, I would be more than happy to do it her way, she got madder than she already was, and when she basically said that she wasn’t my mother and she didn’t have to ask me nicely, I just lost it. Of course, the truth to be told is this…. I may or may not have done it her way. I may have only made her think I would capitulate and do it my own way, the way I’ve been doing it for 35 years that has worked just fine, behind her back.
I am not angry because she had a problem. I am not angry because she asked me to do something a different way. I am angry because she didn’t ask. She told. She had no concept she was being disrespectful to me and when I pointed this out, she said that she couldn’t say it another way because she was stressed. Well, dear, I am stressed, too. Stress does not give you the excuse to treat a 42-year-old man like a child.
She awoke the beast, however, truly awoke the beast, when she came to my bedroom, knocked on the door all politely and asked me if I could please do something else. Then said, “See, I can say please,” to which I replied “Thank you.” I would have left it at that, but then she said, “About the other thing, I’m not going to say please because I don’t care if you do it or not. I’m just telling you it is not going to work.”
If she didn’t care, why bring it up at all? Why tell me I can’t? Why not just inform me of the situation and move on?
You see, when I get angry, my anger takes three forms. Either I get mildly annoyed and might raise my voice, but never yell, just speak loudly. This signals mild annoyance and should not concern anyone over much. If I am very angry, I will walk toward you, use my remaining vision to look you dead in the eye and speak clearly and loudly. This is still not a real concern for anyone. It means I’m angry, but if you leave me alone, I’ll simmer down right enough. When my anger is white hot, I do not yell. Every action, every movement is deliberate. I speak softly and deliberately. As if, for example, I were in the library.
When she came to my door and reinitiated the conversation, my anger blazed. I am still angry. Not as angry as I was, to be sure, but angry enough. Had she left me alone, I probably would be over it by now…but she did not. She pushed me almost beyond my limits. I wanted to kill her in that moment. Had I had a knife in my reach, I might have done it. Did something stop me? The thought of going back to prison, perhaps? No. The only thing that stopped me was that a weapon wasn’t handy. She is a lucky, lucky woman. Very lucky indeed. I might have done it. By God I might have done it.
God help me.