It occurs to me this morning that I’m as angry as I’ve ever been.

I had two episodes last week that just enraged me.images

INCIDENT NUMBER ONE: I saw a new doctor, as the divorce forced an insurance change.  I picked someone nearby, having nothing else to go on.  I guess I could have looked up her name on one of those sites that evaluate docs and shrinks and chiropractors to see if her services were appreciated, but I didn’t, because a doc or a shrink is not the same thing as a car mechanic or plumber, as much as we’re being led to think so.

She was a tiresome little girl.  As expected, all she wanted to talk about was my sleeping medication. Not my history of near misses with breast cancer, not my concern that I have a bladder infection.  Public health has carefully instructed this child to stamp out all that was the course of our discussion.  I told her I had had enough change in the last year.  I told her that I would approach this somewhere down the line, but that I was functioning fine and my “use” had not escalated.

Nothing about what I was concern with. Zero.  Not even the thought that maybe she might ask me.

Incompetent bitch.  Don’t put up with this, people.

INCIDENT NUMBER TWO:  I take  my dog out to the barn where my daughter and I ride.  My dog has severe separation anxiety. He was barking in the car. He always barks in the car.  The ambient temperature in the car was about 65 degrees. I checked.

He is utterly safe.  If I didn’t take him with me, he’d be alone in the house again.

I was lectured. Again. By a prissy middle aged and  rapidly getting older  know it all who doesn’t know that this dog is a thousand times better off than when he was full of bee bees from when he was shot at, still an intact male ready to fertilize the countryside with more unwanted dogs, full of worms, full of fleas.  And I took him in.

Yes. He sometimes stays alone in the car and barks and I’ve tried Prozac and I don’t have six months to teach him systematic desensitization.

“C’mon GIRLFRIEND. ” she says to me. “ITS HOT IN THERE”.  “No one wants to say this to you, but I will”.

No bitch, in fact it’s not hot. It’s January. I should be more concerned that he’s not wearing his coat, but the warmth in the car brought the temperature right to a comfortable spot.

I NEVER used to get this mad, I didn’t. These incidents seem trivial, I’m sure. reactions out of proportion. I can’t decide if it’s good or bad. All I know is that I’m sick of keeping the peace.

Little girl doc will not be my doctor. One strike and you’re out.

And granny know it all will be avoided at all costs. If she dares to call me “GIRLFRIEND”, I will, with rage boiling, tell her the following.

“DO NOT call me GIRLFRIEND”…while my mind will be fantasizing about ripping out her jugular.

Did both these women have a point? Sure. I can see that.  In the past, I’d rationalize their “points” as more important than my own and utterly forget my perspective….Now, I’d like to tell the world…quit judging before you know the whole story. Take a step in my moccasins. Find out my concerns. The lack of interest and willingness to make your judgments means you are dangerous to me, and you need to be avoided.  It’s that behavior, that thoughtlessness, which makes me want to scream.


One comment on “Anger

  1. elevatorpoet says:

    Personally, I’m glad to see you mad. I have to go to sleep, but thank you. It’s late, hopefully you’re sleeping. Really, so far mad is the best. You’re a good writer Pauline. I haven’t been mad in weeks, but I remember I’m always upset when I get mad, I’m out of control. But I forget I don’t control the world, and the world doesn’t always understand me. They say like, “your hair needs to be brushed,” when that is not anywhere in my list of priorities. But I have to try to put a little less importance on that. You did the right thing, being mad. Sleep well.

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