One part of being back on T that I’d managed to forget about: the quick flashes of anger at damned near everything.Â It’s not a rage thing, I’m not seriously dangerous or anything.Â I get mad just long enough to punch a guy and then feel horrible about it the second I’m done.Â It’s not something I’ve had to worry about much because K doesn’t upset me in ways that induce violence, I’m actually far more likely to burst into tears than hurt him.
Yesterday I spent the day with M, her little sister (C), and her energetic, probably ADHD, pretty ridiculously immature brother (J).Â Now, normally I’m ok with wild children.Â J is 12 which I realise is a bitch of an age to be (and be around), but is also the main age of the kids I worked with in YMs.Â I don’t like the constant chattering just to hear the sound of his own voice, but I know how to ignore it.Â I was even able to keep the kid amused for a decent amount of time.
Then he decided to go into the hotel bathroom and just start banging on the door.Â Banging and banging and banging and banging for like 20 fucking minutes.Â Ok.Â Fine.Â Whatever.Â Ignore it.Â Except when he comes out he [a] insists he was asleep and [b] starts opening the cabinets in the kitchenette and slamming them shut.Â The boy is TWELVE.Â He’s not two, he should know better than to make large amounts of noise for no earthly reason.Â I go up, close the door he’s got open, and tell him to cut it out before I hurt him which is a very normal reaction from me (keep in mind that I was raised in military programmes).
Apparently I’d already reached my frustration limit for the day.Â I don’t even know what happened, but for some reason he’d called me ‘she’ and then when I corrected him went into “he, she, it, whatever” in a totally normal, joking 12 year old way and I just snapped.Â I shoved the poor kid against the wall and probably would’ve decked him if there hadn’t been other people around.Â It’s me so as soon as I realised what I was doing I felt like the world’s worst human being, but that’s not exactly the point.
I’m not used to having to keep an eye on my temper.Â Normally when I get angry or frustrated I sulk, yell, or cry.Â Crying happens more than I like to think about.Â This though…this is different and I’m going to have to learn how to deal with it as soon as possible.