I had a setback a couple to days ago. My temper came out and everyone around reaped the benifits of my fit. All seven stopped and staired, mouths open and eyes wide. Not daring to move as I, El Jefe, ranted in my gringo langange that they had no understanding of. But my animated actions and tone was unmistakable. My frustration and anger out for all to witness. Even with 37 days of not a drop, my disease was still going to raise its' ugly head.
It had been a morning that nothing seemed to work. You know, overslept, coffee not made, puter misbehaving, workers not working... da da da.. I had seen it coming. I already knew that I would be out of control. But tried to fool myself that I was in control and would handle the situation and change that anger. But I only needed one more thing, anything... to put me over the edge... and I looked for it, I wanted to find that excuss and goddamnit... I'll find it. And so I did.
I think back to my pre-drinking time. Ya, the occasional temper tantrum as a child. The frustration or disapointment anger as a teen. As the years passed and my drinking careeer had been launched, my normal expression of temper tantrums turned to often into outbursts of angry rage. ALL justified of course... by me.
In my short time... very short time, here in my recovery, I have been trying to learn to recognize my inner anger and try to look at it, control it and put the anger into more rational and exceptable expression. I felt good that in 37 days I could be frustrated, but no explosions.
Ok. 37 days without is still a heck of a lot better then 37 explosions a day.
Thank you for giving me a place to put this. Ringo |