Why I get angry

I'm pretty sure I've said it here before. When I am angry, it is because I am hurt or afraid.

Lately, I've been dealing with a lot of unnecessary bullshit in my life. All this stupid "he said, she said" bullshit that has nothing to do with me, and does not involve the person who stirred it up.

I'll keep it simple, and protect anonymity as much as I can here. Which means that you get the over-simplification. Sunshine's ex (I won't say which one) went batshit crazy over something she had no business being angry about. In her defense, she hasn't been crazy much at all since he & I got together; and she has now apologized to him for her part in this recent episode. She has seen that it was all being incited by an outside party who was acting from god-knows-what self centered interest. Someone who had no business involved in the first place. Someone who dragged my name into the drama (drama that didn't even involve me), and who then brought the drama to my work on my second day at the new job. That mother-fucker also gave my phone number to Sunshine's ex, as well as telling her exactly where we live.

Sunshine and I have worked hard to remove unnecessary bullshit from our lives and insure that nobody knows where we live.

(Hey, when you have histories like ours, you don't want random ghosts from the past showing up to haunt you. Leave me alone about my fierce desire to be a private person.)

When the shit exploded last week, being the good little addict (read: batshit crazy person) that I am, my initial thoughts were something like this:
"187-murder-death-kill"
"Feral hogs will eat the remains"
And
"I don't care if blood and guts get all over my Armani pants and Manolos"

(Not caring if I ruin my Manolos? That's batshit angry right there.)

Thank heaven that the 12 steps work in spite of me.

What actually happened was I called somebody whose recovery I greatly respect. I then added smart-limits to my phone plan so I could block the offending parties from calling my phone.

And I cleaned house so that if a call to 911 became necessary, none of the hunting weapons that came with the magic bus caused us a problem.

(Yes, you read that correctly. The magic bus came with hunting weapons. We found them while cleaning it out. We will be returning them to their registered owner when he comes to town for my graduation. I know, my life is strange.)

Sadly, I didn't get the smart limits activated fast enough. I got voice mails that were just absurd. "I heard you want to kick my ass. Whatever, I'm not afraid." (Wanting to kick somebody's ass implies I give a shit about that person one way or another. I assure you, I don't.) Ultimately,  I wasn't even angry at Sunshine's ex. I was just enraged at the instigator. Like, seeing red, enter a fugue state, blackout kind of rage. A rage so bad that it sent adrenaline racing through me, which caused chest pains that traveled down my left arm. (I really need to see a cardiologist about that shit; I've been on so many NSAIDs for so many years that I am probably a heart attack just waiting to happen.)

So I had my voice mail shut down.

Oh, shut up already. I have always hated voice mail. I was glad to have a valid reason to get rid of it.

Ultimately, I got angry because my peace and serenity were shattered, which hurts; and because I don't trust the instigator of the drama at all, which causes fear. Fear of the unknown, fear of what comes next. Ultimately, I have 911 and decent property insurance, so fuck it.

I will say that I am grateful for the N.A. program. It worked in spite of me. Instead of participating in the insanity, I just started surgically removing the instigators from my world.

Rather than poke the insanity with a stick, I realized that ignoring it would be the best way to make it go away. See, ignoring insanity means that it loses interest. Just like a stray, if insanity is fed it hangs around.

I am grateful for the Band. When this shit exploded, and I tweeted 187murderdeathkill, the Band was there offering love (and alibis and bail). There were N.A. members who helped me make sense of it all, and helped me react in a healthier manner than I would have done alone.

Sadly, the lesson I learned here is something like this:

Trust no-one. Keep my mouth shut. Don't talk about my life or my feelings. Everyone is batshit crazy. Other people will go to extremes to try and bend me to their wills.

(Thank heaven for those very very few N.A. members I feel I can trust, and for all you slores and random dudes #withtheband. You guys are the exceptions to the rule.)

And all of those persons who instigated shit, well,  fuck 'em. All those persons who are trying to convince me that the instigator is upset (I'm sure they're aiming for forgiveness, a noble idea), well, even if I forgive--I will never forget or trust. I say the instigator should be upset. That mother-fucker can go cry his alligator tears all over the fucking country for all I fucking care, I see them for the lie that they are. I say "be upset. Be very upset. Look at what you have done, and know that you did it." I say "you did it. Now live with the consequences." I also say "know that you are dead to me, and death is forever."

To those few of you who are the exceptions, those few who I still feel I can trust, thank you. Thank you for tour nobility, for your beautiful spirits. You are a rare and dying breed.

Now, I am off to take a nap. Or do laundry. Or something.