I was having trouble getting my Mail set up on my new iMac & went to my server's online chat/help.
Ding "You are now connected to a chat technician!"
Typing typing typing.
For some reason long sentences did not wrap that the tech was typing. He kept asking me to enter my account info and I could not read everything so I told him that. He kept repeating the same question about my account info and ignored my plea that I could not read his entire question. I kept trying to explain to him that we could not progress to the real issue until he fixed the chat window issue.
I did not understand why he didn't understand me. I asked him if he was human. He said he was and plastered a generic comment like "I apologize for the problem. I am here to assist you," AGAIN. I got mad. Closed the chat window. Realized an opportunity to view some erroneous emotions-to-body-to-soul mapping routes. The Pause.
Scene: I am probably two years old. I am riding in the car with my Nanny. I am in my usual place standing next to her, my body wedged in between her right back side and the car seat, my arm around her neck.
She is making one of her quick stops at the 7-11 to pick up something to feed me. She asks me what kind of cereal I would like and I am really happy at the idea.
The certain cereal that I love comes to mind. I start to describe the box. She keeps asking me the name of the cereal. I tell her it has a boy and a girl on the box and they are happy. She asks me what the cereal is called AGAIN and I tell her the box is big and white and they live in a nice house. She is obviously getting frustrated with me. I break an unspoken rule and allow my face to show my frustration back at her. Now she has moved from frustrated to angry and condescending. I feel alienated, dumb, lonely, angry, and hungry and I am only two so I stuff all those feelings into a cache somewhere.
I think I just bumped into that cache. I cracked it wide open. The light is flooding in. Thank you, Lord. As this scene subsides I am aware of the tension I am holding across my arms, neck & shoulders & I decide to release the grip. The tension is simply gone. I take a deep breath and stand a bit taller and wider.
Thru the day today the vision of the scene and the resulting physical tension-release epiphany sift thru my thots. When I was one, my divorced mother went off to college in Austin, & for awhile I only saw her on weekends. Nanny was all I had and she worked during the day. The only time I had to be near her was in the car. Wedged between Nanny & the car seat I felt safe. I was hungry and looking forward to my favorite cereal and she failed to understand me. Not only that, she condescended to me, made me feel stupid for not being able to communicate. When I considered standing up for myself & claiming my right to my anger, her ferocious stare let me know my one haven in life would be destroyed if I went forward. There was no place to go but inward. Something about this speaks of space. Safe space, my space, a space to be at ease to express myself.
And anger. That anger got stored in my body and has been rumbling all my life. It further explains why I get so angry when I feel misunderstood & disrespected. This one incident was a very powerful force to the rest of my life. I have carried it all this time.
I was telling Pastor the other day @Krogers that I have been noticing my anger a lot lately. Sometimes I will notice I am angry out of proportion to the situation. When I pause to consider whether I want to claim a right to be angry or decide to forgive, I most always decide that I can afford to forgive. But I am baffled at my first response. It is too automatic for me to trust it. I realize I am an angry person.
So... A lot of prayers asking not to be an angry person anymore. I am understanding what he means when he says he gives himself no rights to be angry, no thots coming, just praise the Lord for everything, for it's all for my benefit whether I can see it at this moment or not. I really believe that. God is so good. I love Him!
Smokey Mt Road Trip - xxx.
7 months ago