Yesterday I was chased by a guy with road rage, or a high and mighty attitude. For a reason I missed completely, he took time out of his busy day to yell at me for stopping for a herd of deer crossing the road. I’m still trying to figure out what the alternative would be. Wrecking my car when a deer jumps in front of it might be his choice, but it isn’t mine.
FYI, we have deer like a city has rats. They’ve become a menace to every kind of garden. It’s so bad, it’s against the law to feed them, and the city council is trying (and failing) to get rid of them. Back to my point.
The man had nerve enough to stop behind my car as I got out to go grocery shopping, and his mouthing off brought out the worst in me. I’m ashamed to say, I matched each verbal attack with one of my own. I shouted back things like, have another drink (not taking him too seriously at first), stop yelling at me, do I need to call the cops. I’m not proud of my behavior, but eventually I bit my tongue and got on with my day.
But when I think about it, I start shaking all over again.
My reaction wasn’t provoked by yesterday. It was from living with domestic violence years before. I thought I had shed that part of my life. I thought my fear of abuse was gone, and I thought I had healed.
Apparently emotional scar tissue is thin and easily ripped away, so it couldn’t protect me from the ridiculousness of life. The thing that helped me let my feelings go was knowing I’d use this raw emotion to fill pages in a book, and that book would be published. I know this not because I’m arrogant, but because I’m staring at my new White Light bookmarks right now. They are all the proof I need.
I can honestly thank every a-hole for kicking my butt and breaking my heart. I have fuel enough for a thousand books and more than enough time to write some of them. Without the emotion I’d have nothing to say.
So thank you. It turns out you’re good for something after all.
Anything fired you up? I love to hear about it especially today.