Something struck me this morning, made something in my life make sense.
I wrote the other day about a friend of mine getting hit by a car on the way out of town, in the opening miles of a nice three-hour bike ride. My initial reaction to the accident, to seeing a seasoned citizen knock down a friend, even if he didn’t appear to be seriously injured, was white-hot anger. I was pissed-off enough that when he walked over to check on the cyclist he’d struck I had to walk away.
Once the hub-bub died down and my brother-in-chain rings headed home, the remaining 63 miles or so calmed me down, or so I thought. In reality it tired me out and being tired only dulled the anger. Later on, in front of my in-laws and my kids, I went off on my wife over something utterly stupid. I didn’t see it then, don’t think I could have, but all of that anger that I’d stuffed down from the ride came spilling out in a moment of idiocy directed at my wife. As with most things in life, my wife played a part in this and my reaction, while way over the top, was not without merit.
That said, the only thing I can really change – the only thing I can do anything about, is me. If I’m truly working on being the best person I can be, I had to make amends for my part in the fiasco and I did just that on Sunday, even if I didn’t understand the full scope of why I was apologizing. After all, you can’t stay pissed at your wife on Easter Sunday. I think there’s a law or something. Then, when I could finally see the whole picture for what it was, I called my wife and let her know what was going on with me.
Sad fact is, I’m not used to being mad about much – I’m a fairly easy-going kind of guy. I’m just not used to being angry like that. That said, my amends are fully made and all will be well and forgiven (including my anger toward the guy who hit our compatriot).
Now, if you’re curious about why I made the initial apology to my wife almost two days ago now, before I could even fully understand why I blew up in the first place, the answer is very simple: Eating crow sucks, but it’s a lot better warm than cold – or worse, rotting.