It was up… it was down.  Now it’s up again.  My cooling off period is over, and I’ve decided I’ve got to say what I’ve got to say.

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I’m so angry right now I don’t know what to do with myself.  The kind of angry I don’t get very often.  The kind of angry I don’t understand, because it is so unlike me.  The kind of angry that makes me wish bad things on people.

I don’t get like this over a wrong committed against me.  This level of ire is reserved for those who commit a wrong against one of my peeps.  One of my kids.  The details of this will (I’m sure) come out eventually, but for now I’ll keep it vague.  Not because I’m trying to protect anyone, just because I’m certain if I start, I will spill spew vitriol the likes of which the world hasn’t seen from me in decades.  There will be words spoken – and written – that can’t be taken back.

I think you get my point now.  I’m pissed.

So here it is in a nutshell: Someone has done something that has caused one of my children pain and humiliation.  Big pain.  Big humiliation. Which leaves me with the cleaning up part.  How to teach a child to deal with anger and disappointment, how to hold your head upright in an extremely awkward situation, and how to move on. I’m thinking I’m going to have to break this thing up into manageable chunks to deal with it.

Dealing with anger is a work in progress for me.  I do it better now than I have in the past, but shrinks everywhere make a living coaching people on how to do this, so I don’t feel bad that I haven’t mastered it.  I do know a couple of rules:  1) Resist the urge to confront immediately.  A cooling-off period is mandatory.  2) It always looks different to the person on the other end, so consider this before responding.  It may change your perspective, or it may give you good ammunition for sniping later. 3) NEVER put anything in writing after having consumed alcohol.

The next part is harder: how to reenter the public eye after being humiliated.  My instinctive maternal response was to shelter the boy.  To open my wing and tuck him under like a mother duck would do her baby in a rainstorm.  Then the rain would have to roll off of me, not him.  But that ain’t how it works for us humans.  Sooner or later we have to face the world.  A friend shared a cliché with me once, “If you have to eat a shit sandwich, there’s no point nibbling.”  Good advice.  Just get it done.  Expect it to be awful, and get it done.

Then, moving on.  Ahhhh.  The other part that keeps the mental health profession thriving.  Any and all advice is appreciated.

This particular kid faces more trials than most kids.  But then, not as many as others.  As I’ve shared before, when my mama was feeling down, she’d invoke the old saying, “I cried because I had no shoes, until I met a man who had no feet.” There are parents out there today crying for much greater pains their kids are feeling.  And I reminded myself of that last night.  His problems are small compared to the big, scary world.  But they are BIG to him.  They are HUGE to him.  And his perspective is the only one I care about right now.

So the person who has committed this wrong against one of mine better look out.  When I decide to say my piece, it won’t be very nice.  And while I don’t usually wish harm to others, right now I’m wishing it on you, you arrogant coward.

To use the words of the Jaron and the Long Road To Love song, I’ll pray for you, sir.

I pray your brakes go out running down a hill.
I pray a flowerpot falls from a window sill and knocks you in the head like I’d like to.
I pray your birthday comes and nobody calls.
I pray you’re flying high when your engine stalls.
I pray all your dreams never come true.
Just know wherever you are honey, I pray for you.