I can totally relate to this. I was a rage machine until I was about 7. I could be sweet as pie until some kid would violate my emerging web of values and then I’d be ready to rumble. In nursery school, I ended up in the directors office more than once for fighting - embarrassing for me and the director, who was my mother. A friend was over for a play date and we got into it - I slammed him with a door and broke his nose. Not good. My brother, 3 years older, and I would fight regularly. Our punishment? Sit and write what caused the dispute. I could never remember the cause. Maybe it was because I was the youngest of 6 and felt attention deprived. I’m not sure. But somehow by 7 or so, I turned down the dial on outward aggression. And when my father died suddenly when I was 10, my demeanor changed even more - socially adept externally and grieving deeply internally.
I wonder how many of us, beyond mid-life and mid-career folks, are still wrestling with some older and angrier versions of ourselves. My ex-wife tells me about some road rage version of my eight-year-old self that happened when we were in Las Vegas and she and our kids were in the car. I remember none of this, but I definitely believe her. That certainly has not happened when I have driven alone. Maybe it was the protective Papa Bear in me that went off the rails.
I can totally relate to this. I was a rage machine until I was about 7. I could be sweet as pie until some kid would violate my emerging web of values and then I’d be ready to rumble. In nursery school, I ended up in the directors office more than once for fighting - embarrassing for me and the director, who was my mother. A friend was over for a play date and we got into it - I slammed him with a door and broke his nose. Not good. My brother, 3 years older, and I would fight regularly. Our punishment? Sit and write what caused the dispute. I could never remember the cause. Maybe it was because I was the youngest of 6 and felt attention deprived. I’m not sure. But somehow by 7 or so, I turned down the dial on outward aggression. And when my father died suddenly when I was 10, my demeanor changed even more - socially adept externally and grieving deeply internally.
I wonder how many of us, beyond mid-life and mid-career folks, are still wrestling with some older and angrier versions of ourselves. My ex-wife tells me about some road rage version of my eight-year-old self that happened when we were in Las Vegas and she and our kids were in the car. I remember none of this, but I definitely believe her. That certainly has not happened when I have driven alone. Maybe it was the protective Papa Bear in me that went off the rails.