Anger Management

So, my 2016 has had a rough start. The other day took the cake. And shoved it in my face. I became momentarily irrational- I blame my German-Irish side. That being said, I have regained focus. I’ve got a pretty good life. I could list off ten blessings, easy. I could also list fifty things (and people) that piss me off, but I’m staying positive here. I don’t need daily sedatives, and I seldom drink vodka straight from the bottle. However, I get it if you do. Totally get it. And I have been there, just not so much anymore. Instead, I take out my frustrations on the weights or on my running shoes. I sweat out the anger. Then I’m good (I’m being positive here). Sometimes though, when I get mad, like really pissed, my mouth just lets loose. I know I should keep it to myself and stay ever positive, right?? Just, no. People don’t really want to hear that you’re good, great, grand. Fuck that. Misery loves company. I might be speaking only for myself, but I don’t want to know that your marriage, kids, and ass are perfect. I want to hear that you struggle like I do; that you are human. I want to know that other moms have days when they really want to give away their kids. I want to hear about how your husband is a prick waffle at least twice a week. I want to see selfies that show your, haven’t-slept-in-27-hours eye bags or better yet, let’s see that resting bitch face. I’ll show you mine if you show me yours. As a mom of three, I already feel like a failure at least 6.7 times a day. I really don’t want to scroll through Instagram and see your photo shopped perfect life. Nor do I want to see your kids’ fabulous photo shoots. Ain’t nobody got time for that shit. I keep my kids’ school photo proofs because I don’t want to buy the actual pictures. I mean seriously; who carries wallet pics anymore? We have Instagram. At my age, I have realized a few things. First, I don’t give a fuck what you think. Second, that I don’t like being able to say “at my age”. Third, if my language, attitude, or disposition offends you, I’m okay if you walk out of my life. I am too old to change. Nor do I want to. I cuss, speak the truth, and use sarcasm with my children. I also feel pride when they can return with a witty, albeit insulting, comeback. It gives me warm fuzzies. I would rather see them retaliate with an intelligent retort than their fists. I also find pride in their academics, their athleticism (or lack thereof), and more importantly, their internal strengths. They have been through quite a bit in their young years and are impressively resilient. For the record, if you think your kid doesn’t cuss, you’re a twit. There are so many internet “guidelines” for being the perfect friend, wife, or mom. But guess what? You’re not any of those. Stop lying; to yourself and to Facebook. God created imperfect humans (some more so than others). I get mad. I feel joy. I have moments of stupid, rage, and elation. It is important to embrace all the feels. When I overstep, as I often do, I will apologize. (If you’re shaking your head over an apology you never received, you were wrong and I was right). Somedays it seems the harder I strive to be perfect, the worse I fail. So, I’m done. I can’t make everyone happy. I will never stop trying to be the best for my kids. I will try not to let those I love down. And I will try really hard not to let others and their personal struggles drag me down- that’s a hard one for me. #fightingirish At the end of the day, I’m a hot mess. But I can’t quit moving because of a bad day or week or year. And guess what, adversity pushes me forward, so keep it coming. Oh, and if you don’t like me, choose to judge me, or ever lie to me; let me make you a sandwich for the road. Bye, yo.