Not a morning post. It’s 4:29pm.
More, an angry post.
The need to decompress through the written word.
The lesson? Still the same: To express.
To express this:
Such a high expectation I hold of others.
How could they be so ignorant? How could they be so rude? How could they be so poorly trained?
Of course, that’s not the issue. Not the real issue, anyway.
The real issue? In this case, I didn’t express myself. I didn’t communicate.
I waited. And waited. For too long.
So long that my frustration — with myself more than anyone — bubbled and boiled until a hair trigger set me off.
In this case, the hair trigger being the confrontation of my own failure — and my inability to articulate my emotion — in the form of an innocent [though arguably still poorly trained] receptionist.
She wore the brunt of the frustration I feel toward myself.
‘How often must that happen?’ I ask myself.
Not just for me, but for many…
Anger directed externally to avoid directing it at where lie the necessary internal change.