Emotions

I come from an emotional household, I have emotional parents, an emotional sister, and an emotional family. When I say emotional, I mean to say that they like to show their emotions and will often act upon it. I mean to say that if a person is part rational and emotional, they generally are more emotional than not. Sometimes this is fun, oftentimes it really isn’t, especially in times of conflict, and for some reason, in my family, there always seems to be some sort of conflict or other. They also shout when they’re angry. There are two types of people in this world, those who become hot angry, and those who become cold angry. Hot-angry people are those who explode, they let it all out, they shout and wave their arms around, veins start popping out of their forehead and they use strong language. Cold-angry people are calm and quiet and let it all rage inside of them. The anger that hot-angry people have usually doesn’t last nearly as long as cold-angry people’s anger, probably because they run out of steam quicker. I guess cold-angry people are more efficient with their anger, and don’t blow their top so that they can keep it up longer. Of course, all of this is probably not supported by your local psychologist, but whatever, it supports the point I’m about to make.

I come from an emotional household, and I am an emotional guy. I’m just like the rest of my family, but I hate it. I can’t stand shouting, I can’t stand panicing or losing control and exploding in anger. I used to have a big temper problem when I was very young, but then my sister came along, and she was even worse. She’d cry and scream at the drop of a hat, and I learned to hate it so much that I started to control my temper more and more. It was still there, beneath the surface, but I had several tricks that I could use to keep it at bay. Now, two decades later it’s no different. I really hate it when people panic, and I always do everything in my power to keep myself from panicing and slipping into a hysteria. I hate it. I hate it so much. I hate it in myself, and I hate it in others, especially when they seem to not lift a finger to prevent it. I don’t understand how anyone could think that losing control is a great idea and a great problem-solver. I don’t understand why others who have this problem, wouldn’t do exactly as much as I to prevent it. I don’t lose control very often, but when I do, it’s so fucking ugly, I feel like such a loser. I never feel better afterwards. I never feel like I accomplished anything. It’s not like I got; “Oh! Awesome, let me just cross that off my list of things to do for today!”

If I know you do it, it immediately means you have a strike against you. You can be a wonderful person, but if you can’t keep your cool under pressure, you’re going to have to work a little harder to earn my respect. My sister is a good example. She and I got along, well, eh, very poorly because of this, and it’s only been in recent times (read: since my mother’s been ill) that she’s shown the maturity and ability to get it together, and it’s been going a lot better since then. I just don’t have to worry about her breaking down at the slightest incling of trouble or adversity.

Of course, all of this is because I hate that side of myself and is dictated by my own self-loathing.