Real-World Application

I knew there would come a day when the tools I picked up from my Anger Management class would come in handy... I KNEW it!

Allow me to explain. I use the tools every day, to head off any potential situations in the normal world around me-- the guy who cuts in front of me in line, my daughter and her $200 phone bills, restaurant ripoffs-- you know, normal stuff.

I am referring to the over-the-top behaviors which could lead to violent encounters with dangerous weapons-- exactly the kind of situation I faced the other day, with stunning consequences. Here's the story:

I was bringing my empty cans to a recycling center because it feels good on a couple of levels-- first, I know I'm helping to clean up the Earth; and second, I am getting money back which is taken from me against my will at the checkout counter-- the pricey CRV (California Redemption Value)--which adds a dime to every can of soda I buy (and I buy a LOT).

By the way, when redeeming cans yourself, be certain to check out how much they give. A recycling center, which takes in ALL recyclables, pays by the pound and does not give the best deal. I know I had 280 cans, which at 10 cents apiece comes out to $28-- I received just over $13 for my batch.

That's NOT what this post is about (but it is a friggin ripoff, you selfish bastards).

No, this is about clientele. As you are no doubt aware, the recycling center is the employer for just about ALL of a city's homeless population. And while we've seen countless TV shows which paint the homeless as good people in bad situations, the simple truth is that this category is just a percentage of the whole. Sadly, many psychiatric patients back in the Reagan era were released from hospitals due to lack of funding, and those people who didn't receive some kind of help from family or friends ended up having to survive on the streets as well. Many other causes of homelessness exist, but that's not the focus of this story.

Needless to say, the line at the recycling center was not stocked with patient, polite people. It's a short process, however, so holding one's tongue (and nose, for the odoriferously challenged) is usually the right call to make.

At this center, the routine is a two-step process: When you arrive at the head of the first line, your product is weighed and a slip is handed to you. You then head over to the cashier line to receive your scratch. That's where the incident began.

This particular recycle place was an outdoor yard made up of a series of ten-foot-tall chain-link fenced areas. The cashier's line, for some reason, was like the queue at a Disneyland ride-- it doubled back on itself several times. The fences were covered with sheet metal, so nobody could see to the front of the line.

It was a pretty quiet day and when I got to the cashier's line I seemed to be alone, but standing on that blind, zigzagging path, who could tell? I just walked back and forth, following the path to the end, and right before I got there (with only one turn to go) I could see a bedraggled man standing there, at the switchback, mumbling to himself. There didn't seem to be anyone in front of him, but as I said, the cashier's office was just out of view. I stopped a few feet behind him and waited for a minute, not knowing if he was just in line and waiting for his turn, or if he was simply giving a wide berth to the pork-pie-hat-wearing, purple-polka-dot dragon that he might have been imagining.

So making a decision I will never understand, I said to the man, "Excuse me, are you in line?" an action that had the approximate reaction of sliding a lit firecracker up a cat's ass.

Big mistake.

Anger management class not only taught me how to recognize an emotional buildup in myself, it also helped me recognize OTHER people's physical cues. That was going on with this guy. I watched in alarm his eyes widening, cheeks puffing, face reddening and voice quavering. He leaned in, trembling noticeably, and stared evilly out of bloodshot, alternately blinking eyes. My own eyes watered-- the stench coming from his piss-sodden rags had me perilously close to my retch point-- and he shouted, "FUYOU-RRRRRRR-DONTALKTMEYAFU-RRRRRRRRRR-IKILYA-RRRRR-STEEMYMUNNY-RRRRRRR-IMGONNACUTOUTYURLIVR-RRRRRRRR...," and went on like that for a solid minute, rarely stopping to catch a breath of his own ill wind.

It was a little like getting hit in the face with a moist paper bag of month-old fishheads tossed from a moving truck.

I've mentioned in previous posts that I am not a violent guy by nature, and while that may be, I have never backed away from a little fresh wordplay. If someone had laid into me for no reason that I could fathom, I figured that gave me the right to shoot back with ammunition of my own. I was always quick with the insults to lay my opponent out, and fast on my feet if I couldn't.

Now I realize that what I was doing, while not physical, was abuse as well. It was a deep rage that propelled me-- embarrassment at my low self esteem, shame that my inabilities were visible and panic that they were being broadcast by the oaf before me for all the world to hear.

I like to think I know myself a little better today. Actually I'm sure of it, as my reaction defined my abilities. "It's not what you say that makes you who you are; it's what you do."

What did I do? Well, first I waited for the air to clear, so I could take an uncorrupted breath of my own. Then I looked him straight in the eye, shot him my widest smile and said, "Well, then our business here is concluded, good sir!" Then I strode past him, collected my 13 bucks and returned to my car with pride.

Yes, I actually said, "Good Sir."

I don't think he even heard what I said. That's probably because he emitted another blast of epithet-cum-gargle at my back. I swear it sounded like a foghorn to me. But I didn't care. I was happy! Some stinky bum is cursing at me and I'm smiling on the inside! 

I don't know if this is a tool I learned in class or not, but I've mentioned it in previous entries: I just asked myself how this guy's opinion of me matters in any way, shape or form. The answer is: IT DOESN'T.

And that is the knowledge that pops the balloon of my negative emotions.

I think I'll go skip on the beach for awhile...

Group Dynamics Dynamited

Call this blog an Anger Eulogy.

It's no secret to any of you who read this blog (at current count, that's exactly ZERO) that I am in a court-appointed anger management class.

Well, first news on the forum is I have 9 MORE CLASSES to fulfill my obligation! YAY!

You may think I will be running, not walking, from this class the moment I have completed my requirements to the court. That's what I thought.

But you forget... I have seen the same faces coming to class for months. We have built a group trust together, a band of brothers under the skin. I yearn to hear the stories in each other's lives and yearn to tell mine to them, whether they be successful or otherwise-- I have learned to take lessons from both.

Members join at odd times and leave whenever. Some stay just for their appointed length and then leave in a burst of light and burnt gas. Sometimes they leave skid marks at the exit. Others come of their own volition and see the group not as a punishment, but as a powerful and helpful learning experience. Those folks can stay for years. I have no direct experience with that last statement, only the assurance of our group leader, but I see no reason to disbelieve him.

I have seen several members leave in my 42 weeks so far. Most have left with a whimper, slipping out quietly or with a somber goodbye. One brought pizza (YUM!). One left in a fit of rage (as you might have expected) and has not been seen since, though they were required to be here and would almost certainly been awarded jail time if they did not complete their 'sentence'.

Of the people in the group in any given week, individual participation is an interesting dynamic. The ones who feel this is a punishment tend to give less of themselves in group. They share their emotions only when prompted to, and even then they tend to be guarded and only give away the bare minimum. I suppose I see their point-- some of the rules indicate that certain key information has to lawfully be communicated to the court (the same court who issued this 'punishment' to begin with), which might take it upon itself to stiffen the penalties for that member-- anger management group, to those members, is a yearlong trap set to put their angry asses behind bars should they slip up and expose themselves.  

Fortunately, most of the members see the positive side of attending this group. I am one of those (as you may have guessed) and understand that any insight into the inner workings of my mind will help me tremendously as I navigate through the cloth of interpersonal relationships. Recognizing my anger triggers and developing awareness of the physical cues that bring on violent encounters is a vital way to not only keep out of prison, but to have success and satisfaction when attempting to get close to others.

Fortunately I am not the only one. Many others have seen the same benefits and are utilizing the program to great advantage, and I speak of those folks today. Today we lost not only a valued contributor of the group, we lost TWO. This leaves a gaping emotional hole in the fabric of class, and I shudder to imagine how next week's class will be affected.

A side note: the members of the class are always from the broad spectrum of humanity: People of every race, every religion, every nationality come together to reflect on this issue which affects us all. It's no surprise that one insight gleaned early in class is that we're all much more similar than we are different. I knew this on a subconscious level, of course; but there's nothing like being in a group like this, saturated with emotion, to drive the point home.

Yeah, so the loss of two seasoned members leaves a void, but one that is filled back up from below. Suddenly I (the novice in this group, or so it FEELS) move to the top position, the rarified air I share with only a couple of other fellows. I look upon the faces and can count only four that I remember from my first day, and of those four only one is court-appointed. The volunteers have no end date-- they can stay as long as they want, miss weeks at a time if they need, and it's no problem, sailor. That means I'm in the number two position to leave... if I want to.

But do I want to? I see the effect this class has on my outside life-- I stand on the sidelines of every conversation, cataloging the emotions brought in, predicting the outcome of situations, aloof from the raw emotions of those immersed in the banter. Even if the conversation is just me and another person, I am watching their faces and body language and metering my own reactions to their commentary. Though it sounds as though I'm living in a Petri dish, an artificial environment of my own design, I find that in fact it creates a comfort zone of understanding, a sort of higher plane of communication. I find myself saying things like, "You say you like it but your body language suggests you actually hate it," and doing things like not having to speak at all sometimes because the answers are evident, floating about in the ether between our bodies.

The lessons are powerful and effective and helpful. But I have to ask myself, are they complete? Have I learned all I need to learn? And if I do stop this class, will the distance from it reduce my abilities over time? In other words, do I need to keep refreshing my experiences from the group, or will I use the same tools from now on? Or will I get myself in trouble again, in a moment of uncheck rage?

Important questions, but one that I think I might've answered above. The secret may lie in the OTHER members of group-- the voluntary visitors. I don't know all of their stories. I don't know if they just checked themselves in from the get-go or if they are continuing past their court appointed deadline, but that seems to be the happy medium. Like hair. Hear me out.

We all cut our hair. Some cut it more often than others-- they refresh their neatness. Others allow their hair to get much more shaggy between cuts-- a more informal look. If I stop coming to class, will my tightly-honed abilities become shabbier until they drag on the floor and sop puddles up from off of the ground? Before I crush my comparison completely let me just be plain: Perhaps I shouldn't stop going to class, nor should I go weekly... the road I'm walking leads to compromise. 

Instead of cutting it out completely, I think it would help a lot if instead I weaned myself from the support slowly. I could start going every other week, or once a month, just to refresh my talents and unburden my soul. Or wait until I've had a wild ride of a week, then go to class to buttress my emotional foundation. 

BUT...

I don't see the others who have finished their court-appointed time returning, though. Not one. Not even once. It's like it was pure punishment to them. They went only because they had to, and it was better than going to county jail for 30 days. I wonder if they ever even saw the potential of the teachings in the room, or if they were just doing their taxes in their heads for two hours a week. Then I watched this court-appointed guy writing in a notebook all meeting long, every week, for almost a year. One week I sat next to him to see what he was writing, what pearls  of wisdom he was gleaning from all the stories and discussion in group. What did I see? Enormously detailed doodles... pages of them! Not a word was printed on any of the pages. At least the group was helping his artistic creativity.

I've written before about how our corrupted society has brought about a need for Anger Management classes so I'll just recap it:

The less I feel I need anger management, the more I actually need it.

So (at least at this writing) I don't see myself leaving the group permanently.

                                     BUT 

The class after my required 52 is completed just happens to fall on this year's super exciting American Idol finale.

I'll be missing group that day, thank you very much.

Why Do I Hate To Love, Or Do I Love To Hate... And Why?

Omigosh, this is gonna be a confusing post, because I am wrestling with conflicting emotions following the very troubling realization that I love what I hate, and I hate what I love... simultaneously!

Holy shades of gray, Batman!

I'm speaking about things you may not realize, from the most direly important down to the least nattily insignificant (Natalie N Significant? I think I dated her in high school...)-- I'll give an example: Spicy peppers. Boy, do I love 'em. And hoo-boy, how I hate em too. I love the flavor, the anticipation of burn and the look of wide-eyed appreciation and awe on the faces of those too timid to try what I've done-- but I hate the actual spicy reaction on my tongue and lips, and the embarrassing way I sweat profusely after each dose. It literally looks like I've had a drink thrown in my face.

Now for an example of the insignificant (ho ho!), no of course I mean SIGNIFICANT (as in OTHER)-- I both love and hate my ex-wife. It's obvious that I love her-- that emotion came early in our relationship and remains, like an epee, to occasionally puncture the growing balloon of hate I have for the way things turned out.

 Other things I love AND hate:

Kittens

Babies (for the same reasons!)

Fattening foods

Television

Sex

The beach

Vacations

Work

Friendship

Enemyship

...and the list goes on.

So am I strange and different, or is this a natural function of being alive? Is the complex nature of emotional response helpful or hurtful to our bright but brief visit here on planet Earth?

WHY CAN'T IT BE EASY!?!?!?!?

It's the yin and yang of life, I tell ya. You can't have one without the other; as a matter of fact, eliminating one would diminish or eliminate the other!

                                                                                                                        Good-------Bad

                                                                Up-------Down

                        Left-------Right

                                                                                                           In-------Out

                                                                     Happy-------Sad

             Crazy-------Sane

                                                                                                 Yes-------No

                                          Pleasure---------Pain

Right-------Wrong

                                                                                                                Calm-------Angry

All right.  What the hell am I talking about TODAY? Is this a topic or is it a ramble? Do I have a cohesive thought on the matter? And how does this relate to anger management?

Okay... I don't know if it has anything to do with how we manage our anger, but I can tell you that this contrast of life-- the constant pulling and tearing of opposites-- is here to stay. I can't tell you if a higher being set up the universe this way, or if matter and energy simply organize themselves into two distinct sides, but I'm pretty certain that without it, all life and movement would CEASE.  Even the mainstay of life in the new millennium, the computer, is designed at its most basic to work off of opposites-- the ON and OFF of 1's and 0's. Motors run because of opposite magnetic charges pushing each other away. And human politics operate by pitting one side against another to see which one is stronger.

Observing all of life from on high is a hobby of mine (I guess I really DO want to be a god), and I have come to the conclusion that, in complex and myriad ways, EVERYTHING RUNS BY REACTION. That may seem basic to you, but to me it was an eye-opener.

I love the story of creation (whether I believe it or not)-- it is pure and basic. Eden-- the perfect world. Everything's warm and fuzzy, the cat frolics with the dog and all the people walk around nude, unmindful, non judgemental. But THEN CAME THE SNAKE.

You might feel that sneaky, slithery serpent ruined everything beautiful about Eden, and you might be right. But he couldn't help it- he was merely responding to the immutable  laws of the physical universe. Even the bible acknowledges the necessity of the pull and tear of life (although it is couched as a BAD thing), and enveloped it in the cloth of human foible, as undeserving as we are to take the blame for it all. 

People's weaknesses are just part of the picture-- if there were NO people, this crackling, static force that makes everything go would continue on, unmindful of its own outcome. We ARE here though, and we notice everything. Then we discuss it, then study it, then posit theories about it, and then settle on a single theory we then call law, quite confident and even smug about our own rightness. 

And THERE it is! It's those LAWS we create, based on theories, trial and error and political discourse, that smacks directly into human emotion and rebounds with a vengeance. The laws, which claim to help society run smoothly (and they DO... sort of) have the unintended side effect of unleashing a host of untenable emotions which clash and roil about in the conscience and are the cause of most of humanity's greatest horrors.

By holding each person up to an idealized version of  "Human", then judging them unfit, then punishing them unfairly and with a metered dose of cruelty, we, in effect, dehumanize society.

Welcome to the downward spiral.