Context: Anger, like a heat injury, is cumulative – it builds up as triggers occur – managing and venting built up anger is a learned Spiritual, mental and physical practice:
He shouted a tormented, but muffled groan into his open hands as traffic did that caterpillar thing, or is it a centipede thing – that stop and go, herky-jerky, speed up/slow down miserable cadence – he just wanted to get to the interstate less than two miles away – the eight lanes of bumper to bumper, darting evening traffic continually distracted his senses causing his back teeth to grind relentlessly – he took a bite guard out of the truck’s center console and seated it over his upper teeth – he cursed himself for forgetting to use the bite guard (again).
He also silenced his phone’s notifications to reduce the distractions – he accelerated, then braked sharply as traffic caterpillared (again) – he held his hands tented over his face, feeling like he was losing the battle to force himself to relax – hot rage crept up the center of his back and threated to erupt through the collar of his shirt – he switched off news radio, which was adding to his irritation and thumbed his phone for an upbeat podcast or music – something to help take his mind off the increasing rage.
The intermittent wipers passed over, and cleared drizzling rain off the windshield – this seemly minor event, distracted his visual focus and broke his train of thought – toppling his mental building blocks, falling in all directions, he lost what he was thinking about – he took a deep breath and forced himself into a long slow controlled exhale, then started methodically restacking his mental building blocks (again).
Two traffic lights down and six to go before he could merge over to the interstate on-ramp – he slipped his feet out of his shoes – he always wore shoes he could easily slip on and off – his therapist taught him and any release (like removing his shoes) could help him regain control of his anger – he removed his shoes a lot.
He surveyed his surroundings – his head and eyes constantly, mechanically took in the things, events and conditions around him – there’s an open gas cap – there’s a child not properly in a car seat – loud music – everyone on their phones – a tire with low air pressure – something dragging under a vehicle two lanes over, maybe a plastic bag – dozens of normal and heated conversations – cross traffic – horns – rain, but also a sunny blue break in the clouds – unfocused, unresponsive, careless drivers and their distracting passengers adding to the brew of chaotic traffic – not just traffic, it was never just traffic for him.
His upbeat pod cast lured his wondering fading focus, bringing him closer to a calmer place – ideally, he just wanted to drive, and be aware of his surroundings – but, ideal was never achieved, because ideal was only a few layers of mental gymnastics deep – only a few layers is what he thought normal people experienced – his normal mental rhythm captured, reacted to and attempted to manage dozens of layers of mental pop-ups and visual & audible interruptions.
Without warning, his tinnitus cracked into his audible awareness – the tinnitus masking device in his hearing aids needed an adjustment (again) – he grabbed his smart phone and tapped the application that altered the tiny tones and noises his hearing aids piped into his brain – the process worked and subdued the tinnitus, but it wouldn’t be long before it would need to be adjusted (again) – his tinnitus today was no worse than normal, but normal was still a screaming constant head splitting tone that had to be kept at bay for his brain to process normal daily activities.
The interstate was not without traffic issues, but typically it offered him a higher and more consistent rate of speed – he wanted to get home, so a higher and more consistent rate of speed worked in his favor plus helped him to relax…
BAM! A chip in his windshield caught his eye and he moaned having forgotten (again) to get it fixed – he needed to add this to his active task list – looking around, he couldn’t see his list, where was his list – he checked his pockets – he would also need a pen, does he have a pen – he looked around again – in another flash the truck’s odometer caught is eye and again, broke his concentration – the truck’s mileage was 220 mile away from a scheduled oil change – this morning it was 250 miles from an oil change – tomorrow it would be 180 miles from an oil change – he needed to schedule an oil change…
BAM! Another distraction, the instrument lights were flickering – why were the dashboard instruments sporadically popping on and off – must be a short or something in the wiring – he wondered if the oil change appointment could also address the dashboard instruments flickering – he needed to add this additional task to his list – where was his list –
BAM! He needed to clean the interior of his truck, or at least wipe it down and vacuum it out – what was that smell – someone’s radiator was too hot – was his radiator too hot…
BAM! A beat up, rattle-trap pick-up truck in front of him stopped suddenly – it failed to make the light, which meant he would also miss the light – he pounded his stirring wheel and cursed the fool and his busted-up truck – he found his pen, but why was he looking for a pen…
BAM! By the weekend, his truck would be 40 miles from a scheduled oil change – what was he going to fix for dinner, it was his turn to fix dinner – the windshield wiper flexed and broke his train of thought (again) – he turned the wipers off.
Four lights down, four to go before he could merge over to the interstate on-ramp.
He knew he would have to work harder to control his anger and negative emotions, or he’d be a wreck by the time he got home – he could do this – he knew he could do this – he focused and mentally dialed up his PTSD control procedures for ‘traffic’ (again) – he thought through the rules his group had taught him about ‘traffic’ – he checked the rules off in his head:
“I really don’t know what the other drivers are going through.”
“The other drivers see me the same way that I see them.”
“What can I do to make traffic better for those around me?”
His traffic rules were actually a subset of a larger bundle of life-skill rules his PTSD group focused on – he worked hard to remember and leverage the rules – the rules were key and essential to engage before his anger, rage, fear, frustration and eventually hate out muscled his mental efforts to remain calm – the rules were good and worked well, as long as he could dial them up quickly and effectively enough to subdue his anger – without the rules, the negative side of him would explode into one of his many outbursts – his anger was never far from the surface of his mental safeguards.
His awareness of the anger and negative feelings helped, but it was not easy – the negative had to be constantly kept in check – he was learning how to stay a few step ahead of it – his negative seemed to grow stronger each year – his rules and practices would also have to be developed and grow stronger.
Focusing on the rules helped him – the bundle of rules also covered rules for work, home, church, extended family, and whenever he was out in public – he needed to manage his brain’s bandwidth to perpetually shift the rules closer to the front of his mental capabilities and control.
BAM! The sunny blue break in the rain clouds closed – he frowned – after dinner tonight, he’d be home alone for a couple hours…
BAM! What was he going to fix for dinner tonight – it was his turn to fix dinner – he couldn’t remember what he put out for dinner – his mind spun wildly – he did put something out, but he couldn’t remember what – maybe it’s on his task list – where is his task list –
BAM! Tonight would be a good time to catch up on internal chores – minor stuff – pay some bills, piddle in the garage, help with laundry, write a little, finish some projects in the grandkid’s nursery, research some outlying questions that just needed time and attention – he needed to whittle some of this stuff off his list, and direct his mind to let go of them – anything, rather than do nothing he told himself – he was the worst at doing nothing – he was calmest and happiest when he was engaged or busy with tasks – he needed to check his list of chores, where was his list…
Without a task in front of him he would fail himself by binge eating junk food, watching mindless television or endlessly scroll through social media – the rain would keep him indoors – there was plenty to do indoors but more to do outdoors, but the rain…
Six traffic lights down and two to go before he could merge over to the interstate on-ramp – 220 miles from a scheduled oil change, his tinnitus flared again and he can’t remember why he’s holding a pen…..
Kevin's Thoughts 