Surviving the anger and frustration of others is something I have never been taught. I have learned some things though the public education system, but not how to avoid feeling victimized by other’s stress. When I receive a nasty email, witness a door slam, or overhear a growling sigh, the hair on the back of my neck stands up. An overpowering beast whispers to me, “you’ve really done it this time.”
My inner dialogue will be called out for what it really is. It is a huge, clumsy, reactive beast that refuses to live anywhere other than my brain. It takes control of my thoughts and feelings by sheer power. I’ve tried to wrangle it. I have tried to trap it. I tried blocking it out with headphones. It’s too clever, it’s too huge, and it’s too strong. I push Beast, BEAST pushes back.
My personal Beast and I have been at odds for 34 years. Beast knows best because Beast is HUGE. But what if the Beast was wrong?
I spend a lot of time stuck in my own head, hanging out with my Beast. I am aware that there is more to this world than just me. I interact with a lot of different people. They are at work, on the roads, in my neighborhood and all over the internet. I’m pretty sure they have internal beasts just like me. If people are all created differently, perhaps the beasts that inhabit them are just as unique.
What if the other beasts had different marching orders than mine? Beasts that whisper wicked things to bring their master to a boiling point, instead of causing anxiety. Those beasts would whisper, “now is your chance, let your anger go” when they felt threatened.
Angry Beast vs Anxious Beast; mine never doesn’t stand a chance. My Beast panics and stumbles through my mind like a bull in a china shop, “This is terrible, this is scary, we can’t be here!” My beast brings fear and destruction to my once calm mind. Sirens wail and memories fall from the shelves. This hefty, stomping creature refuses to calm.
Baby steps in the right direction, I make a different choice. My heart hurts for this monster. Disregarding its melodramatic growl, I let it run itself ragged. I offer my tiny hand to its gigantic paw and whisper, “what if it isn’t us?”
The more we walk together, hand-in-hand, the more compassion grows for my misunderstood monster. I teach it everything I know about the people who live in the world with us. “Other people have their own lives, their own responsibilities and their own tasks to complete. They are bombarded with decisions and interactions,” I inform the Beast.
My beast is instructed to take notes on passive aggressiveness, lack of communication, shame, guilt, and fear. The beast is trying to see how the smallest pieces affect the structure of each human interaction.
“When people are consumed with frustration it seeps its out, one way or another,” I tell my Beast. “It doesn’t always mean it’s our fault. Personal responsibility is important, but it is not possible for us to cause all the problems on the planet.”
All this homework, all this data, will empower the Beast and diminish its reactive nature. Hand-in-paw, my Beast and I walk together. My Beast is huge, clumsy and refusing to leave. But my Beast is willing to be changed.
