Backsliding

Fell off the wagon, so to speak, yesterday.

And now that I look back on it, I realize it was my typical anger episode -- all about control. I know that control is my big trigger. I'm going to write more about anger triggers soon, but for now I just want to describe the curious (and somewhat hopeful) thing that happened.

It was raining hard late in the afternoon and my two older kids were going to have to walk home from the bus stop in the rain, without umbrellas. I decided to drive and pick them up so they wouldn't get wet. I left the house a couple of minutes earlier than the school bus usually arrives. But as I pulled out of the driveway, I could see them about 50 feet up the street, trotting along getting soaked. The bus had dropped them off early, dammit. I drove up beside them and they just stood and looked at me like I was nuts. I said, "Do you want to get in the car?"

"No," said one of them. "I'll just walk the rest of the way."

And that was it. Simple. No big deal. No one's fault. But I had lost "control" of the situation; I'd driven halfway up the street for nothing. The bus had come too early. I went right into rage, popped the truck into reverse and slammed my foot on the gas pedal. Tires squealing on the wet pavement, surprised looks on my daughters' faces.

By the time I pulled back into the driveway, just a few seconds later, I was already realizing how absurd this was. How utterly UNworthy of an anger attack. Nothing had happened, really -- other than the situation turning out differently than I had planned/wanted.

And just that quickly, I was done. I didn't need the anger anymore. I had the sick, guilty feeling I always have after blowing up. But I also knew that at least this time I caught it just a little bit sooner than normal. And I didn't yell at the kids, thank God.

That's something, right? A slight improvement? An ounce of hope?