Have you ever noticed how anger is like a disease? When you catch the illness of being frustrated it burns at you like a slow-growing fever. It rises within you until it starts to burn you up. It grows, grabbing hold of other minor inconveniences in your life, and it magnifies those instances making them multiply in your already stressed mind.
It consumes, and it bubbles up, festering until it pops. And you blow your top.
I have no clear understanding why some things make me upset, and other things, not so much. But for some reason it happens that way. Sometimes I handle a situation so beautifully that I’m certain if my arm were longer I would definitely be patting myself on the back. Then I bring myself back to earth by completely overreacting to some minuscule occurrence.
Today I experienced dealing with a company that charged me incorrectly for a service. I was right, and they were wrong. Dead wrong. In fact their error could have really caused me a problem if my checking had held less funds like it typically did, and that’s what I thought of while I sat on hold for thirty minutes. Yes, thirty minutes.
I thought, their mistake could have made me overdraw on my checking account!!
For some reason I realized, as I sat listening to the catchy, seasonal music for half an hour, that nothing did happen. I didn’t overdraw, and I had seen the mistake immediately. Despite my frustration for some reason I decided to relax. I made the conscious decision to not allow my anger to get the best of me.
Later in the day, after dealing with one cranky toddler, and one sleepy preschooler, I tried to fit in a few chores, but nothing was going like it should. The dogs were being bothersome, and felt like four more children I had to care for today.
The house was more of a wreck than usual, and wet leaves tracked across the doorway as I came back in from feeding dogs that never got full. The rooms seemed smaller than usual, and the chaos of a day’s worth of overflowing dishes and discarded trash pressed in upon me from every direction as I swept hurriedly during the children’s nap time.
I gathered up dirty clothes thrown upon the floor, and my four year old woke crying, “I’m thirsty.”
I had hoped she mind nap a little longer, and I knew she wanted to be held. And I wanted to hold her too. But I also wanted to be mad. It had been building from the moment I got mud on my pants, and it grew as I struggled to pull out chairs to sweep under in a kitchen that felt like a shoebox. A tiny, dirty shoebox.
I grumbled to myself, audibly it seems. Something about dirty clothes, and small kitchens. I might have used the words “I can’t even!” But I can’t say for sure.
My daughter chimed from the living room, “Remember Mom? You said we wouldn’t get frustrated over little stuff?”
And indeed I had made a deal with my four year old just a week before. While watching her yell and fuss over something inconsequential I had realized she came by it naturally, and was only mocking the inappropriate frustration of her dear old mom. I had made a pact with her that we would be “slow to anger” together.
I had managed to keep my cool on the phone with customer service, and had managed to get my custom made Christmas cards free without even asking for any compensation whatsoever.
Yet when faced with the mundane inconvenience of crumbs and crowded rooms I had felt ready to explode. When my daughter spoke her tiny words of wisdom soothed me immediately, and I felt my frustrations dissipate until it was like they had never been there at all.
I am reminded that whether big or small that problems, inconveniences, and frustrations will assault my day. That is a given. But how I respond is completely up to me. How I decide to let an issue take residence and grow in my mind is in my hands.
Anger is like a disease. It festers and it grows. It consumes and infects, stealing healthy joy. My being mad doesn’t change anything in a positive way. It doesn’t make rooms grow or messes lessen. It does affect my mood and my children in a negative way, and that’s the worse part of it.
Frustration is in essence a lack of trust. You become overwhelmed at circumstances beyond your control, and you allow the weight of it to press too heavily on your spirit. I forget that God’s hand is on all of my life; even the mess. Trusting in the truth of His direction and will can make one relax, and soothe me as sufficiently as my daughter’s words earlier today.
It will come, frustration and anger, but it will not overcome me. Honestly, some days it does. More than I’d like to admit. But thankfully there’s tomorrow, and I’ll start again there.