Well, while I was an asshole this morning, I was an asshole who was unseen. It seems I am still my usual self when it comes down to stress. My adrenaline picks up and I am either worried like made or simply pissed off. I was pissed this time around. Why? I was woken thirty minutes late. Why should that piss me off? It put my entire morning schedule off. When certain things don’t go as planned, I freak out.
So, I wake up, see it is six-thirty. I was supposed to be woken thirty minutes ago and given that ulcer medicine. Well, just as I make it out my door my dad arrives with pill in hand. I take it and more or less go back to my room since I must wait an hour before I can eat. So, seven-thirty would be when I’d eat. Thus, that would mean I’d have to wait until eight-thirty to start the treadmill. I’d more or less be done finally at nine-thirty. Then there would be chores and I’d have to wait longer until lunch and blah, blah, blah. Basically my whole schedule was off and when I was supposed to eat at least every six hours, this time around I would not have eaten for seven.
Well, looking back now, I was making a huge deal out of little, but that is me when running on adrenaline and panic. So, four minutes pass and I decide to recalculate. I would change my schedule around. I wrapped up my weak ankle, got on my shoes, readied my music player, grabbed a water bottle and headed for the treadmill.
I made a detour to ask my mom if it would be okay for me to do such on an empty stomach full of adrenaline. She was in the shower and I pretty much cursed her in my head. I was still in a piss poor mood and walked while trying to keep myself calm because the adrenaline was not helping my ulcer. Half the walk was spent thinking, mentally ranting and cursing. Yeah, that is my asshole side. I was angry at my dad, frantic about the schedule and then annoyed with myself for being a bastard.
The reason I am usually seen as the good kid is due to my lack of fuss, I think. At worst I am snappish and show my pissed off mood despite all my struggles to keep it under wraps. Despite that there is no cursing or violence. I just try to avoid and when approached I tend to be unpleasant. Well, what is going on beneath all that is cursing. In equivalence to it being expressed it would either be very lashing, vocal or things would be thrown all over the place. At worse, things would be destroyed.
Well, none of those things happened. As said, I walked, I silently vented, I mentally cursed my dad, and then I mentally cursed myself for cursing him, I reflected and whatever. Because of the mood I was in I was able to do 3.3 mph for 1/4 a mile though. I was telling myself not to do such due to the whole work yourself slowly thing, but I lost track of distance in my brooding. It troubled me naught.
I was still easily agitated when I was starting to cool down mentally. While it is a given I depend on my parents and really need their help when it comes to keeping a schedule, it is my fault as well. I could always try to use the alarm on my clock again. Sure, it doesn’t always work out – I mean, I sleep through fire truck and ambulance sirens – but it could always help. Even more, I should be grateful my parents both look after me. They care and try their best. Not all parents are like that. I am fortunate that they help me keep track of my meds and make sure I take them everyday because if they didn’t, I’d suffer from withdraw or end up overdosing more than I’d like.
Still, despite all my rationalizing and disapproving my disrespectful thoughts, when my dad entered the room I was annoyed. When he turned on the overhead light I was annoyed more. Sometimes when he stood across the room in the proximity of the corner of my eye it even annoyed me. As usual I cursed myself for being a bastard and that I should get a hold of myself or whatever.
When I finished I got off and headed for a shower. While in there I did a few more calculations. I got out and by seven-thirty I started to microwave my bowl of oatmeal. I unloaded the dishwasher and thought of how I still “discipline” myself. I noted I still tend to “raise” myself. In my extremely old journal writings when I was full of anger, I would say I was my own parent. I think I still am. While I’m not as ignorant as I was a decade ago to have the audacity to say neither of my parents were there for me, I do think my “self-raising” is indeed a “third parent”. I think it even has a sort of proof to it when I look at my older siblings. My parents have always lacked in discipline it seems. I think my “third parent” provided that.
While I am not perfect, I still strive to be good. I doubt it will ever come naturally to me. Still, I do have some control. With my form of self-discipline I manage to keep myself in line. It helps me create the least amount of damage as possible. I don’t do anything rash unless provoked and even then I try my best to keep it minimal. In all of this I think, try to calm down and give reprimand to things I thinking that are unfair, wrong or just mean.
I try to be good, but looking at myself earlier, it seems I’ll always have a “natural” bad streak whenever stressed. Despite the pills and my calmer life style, it seems such will not change it. All I can do is try to control it. While in the past I’d berate myself for being weak and allowing myself to have those moments, I think now, it is inevitable. The most I can do is keep it under control when it does happen.
Sigh… Well, sitting down and typing this, I have become a lot calmer and am near my usual disposition. I suppose I am relieved at that. That is all then. I simply thought it would be good to keep record of this.