Lessons From a Glass of Anger
One thing this old dog has learned over time is not to waste precious moments of life on anger and trying to tear others down to feel “better than.”
Here’s what lead to this:
Rob, my husband, and I got together last year with someone he cares about. Someone he’d only seen a couple of times now in over 35 years since they parted ways long ago in the military. It should have been a time of enjoying time together, which seems to be in short supply these days as life has taken everyone everywhere. A celebration, if you will, of life. A celebration of friendship and brotherhood. A celebration of each person’s qualities that make them worth making the time to spend time with.
Instead, the person put their value and importance into spending 90% of that time being angry. Angry at the current president. Angry at the government in general. Angry at the VA. Angry at certain political parties. Angry at their fellow Americans. Angry at states. Angry at wanting to be understood. Angry. Angry. Angry.
Instead of catching up on what they’ve been up to and sharing good memories, this person could not get off the endless anger carousel.
When Rob walked away to order some drinks, that attention got turned to me, bashing my home state. Calling me what they thought was an insult just in their tone they said it, but it took everything I had to keep a straight face as I looked this person in the eye because it was actually really silly. And I wasn’t even mad because I had already been forewarned about this person. So I was prepared. Plus, I can’t get mad about something unless I believe it to be true. Which thankfully, I don’t.
In the final moments of the night, and after a few drinks mellowing up said person—who came in wound up and determined to finish a conversation Rob had put a stop to years ago—I saw what Rob knew about this person. A person who can actually be pretty cool and cares, when they’re not angry and untethered by deep seated feelings and issues. But this brief peek into this epiphany was only in the last few moments.
Rather than anger, I walked away from this sad. Sad that such precious time had been completely wasted. Time that could have been put to good use between two friends to remind each other of why they chose to have each other in their lives to begin with. They weren’t forced to be friends. So much wasted time on stuff that no one will ever see eye to eye on anyway. Time wasted while one person did most of the talking and Rob just humored them and concentrated more on what he was drinking and enjoying the environment around us. Time wasted to have fun and laugh.
Time wasted just to try to have the last word (which is the title of the third book I’ve started: The Final Word)…to continue a conversation that both had not agreed to, only the one who kept making the conscious decision to breathe life into it.
Time wasted on other priorities rather than the one sitting in front of them. What if this evening was the last one for them forever? Tomorrow isn’t promised, after all. We’re all getting old and health can play into how long we have left. Accidents happen on the road, work, and home.
Is it more important to pass from this life happy that you were able to express your anger and did your darnedest to get your point across? Or happy that you were able to spend quality, precious time with someone you obviously care about…and have them know and feel this?
While the time was wasted—with no chance for a do-over for those moments and no chance to ever get that time back—the lesson in all this was not wasted.
I never thought that I, the one who just went along for the ride and was an observer most of the time, would be the one this experience would impact the most. What I learned is to quit wasting precious time and energy on things and people who don’t even know your name. Things that aren’t as important as what is in front of you. Your family. Your friends. Your community. Again, tomorrow isn’t promised. I learned that quality and precious time with you is what I care most about because you matter and you’re worth it. Perhaps this experience was meant for me.