A lot of people who know me, would describe me as a patient and calm person. And, for the most part I am. I have been tried to my patience many times, and I have handled it quite well. Other times, beyond embarrassment.
Shortly after losing my younger brother suddenly and traumatically, I had a deep conversation with a women who had recently lost her sister. She was still in a deep state of grief, but in the midst of this, she managed to say that she had a more relaxed and positive outlook on life now. After experiencing something so profound, she could not bother getting upset or annoyed with little details in her life anymore. Those details meant nothing anymore, and if she knew that she could deal with the death of her sister, she could deal with anything.
I was amazed, hearing her story. Yes, once in a while, I could also get the same feeling that she does. And, I often say, still to this day “worse things have happened” when something is up. But, truth be told, I could also go frantic about something like a parking ticket or a lost train, because I just had no energy to deal with these little details (that became large in my head) in addition to the severeness of the grief.
My behavior the other day, reflected my illness for the past couple of weeks (and also the more chronic the past 8 years), I am sure, but nonetheless quite embarrassing.
I had recently bough a mac, because my old computer does not cut it, and I have been using my iPad, which is just full to the brim now. I got the wrong one, so I had to return it to the store to get the right one. My hubby’s pc drowned in his beach bag last summer. I needed to prepare for an important speech, and when my beloved iPad keyboard suddenly stopped working and the charger fell apart as I put it in to charge it, I went a bit nuts. I used words my mom would be ashamed of. I wanted to throw the iPad out the window, but gladly I did not. My husband, half asleep after a long day, looked at me with a surprised look, mumbling something about him not recognizing this person beside him. He laughed a bit and then started snoring. Which, of course, pissed me off more.
Until I took a breath, looked at myself and my own actions. mI realized that my husband was right in laughing at me (although he was half asleep and did not remember this conversation (and I am being very nice to myself when I call it a conversation), because I behaved like a child. A child whom of which somebody had stolen and ruined their toy.
Everyday I try to be mindful of my own reactions. It does not mean I will not react stupidly sometimes, but it means I can stop, breathe, and wonder what is happening to me. It means I can reflect around it after. And, it means that I find other ways of reacting that are much more fruitful in the end.