Slow to Anger

One argument. One Slap. One phone call. A multitude of consequences. Back then, I had developed a habit of drinking everyday--definitely not good for my health, in so many ways. Alcohol and mental health issues DO NOT MIX. If you were to ask me why I had started drinking, I would not have had an answer for you. All I know is that drinking helped me escape the existence of my mundane, void-filled life. I was alone. Men related to me on strictly a physical level. They didn't stay and I thought it was because something was wrong with me. I had no job--I was on a fixed income, and although we had everything we needed, the funds to do the things we wanted to do were few and far between. I was a single mother. My son, who had always been close to me, was now a young man about to graduate high school and go to college. He would be leaving me and that saddened and terrified me. Being a mother was my greatest accomplishment; for the last 17 years, I had been nothing else. Looking back, I was not merely unhappy; I was ungrateful. Maybe that was why karma would have its way with me--in order to teach me to appreciate everything and to take nothing or no one for granted.

It was a typical Saturday morning. I had made a breakfast of scrambled eggs with cheese, and waffles (my son's favorite). After breakfast, I retired to my room to have my morning beer and smoke a couple of cigarettes. That one beer, quickly became two, then three, until eventually the whole six pack was gone. I got up to start my weekend deep cleaning. I turned on some music, and began to vacuum the carpets while my son washed the breakfast dishes and cleaned the kitchen. After vacuuming, I went into my son's room to tidy it up. He wasn't the neatest person and I constantly chided him for not keeping his room clean. I normally respected his privacy and didn't snoop, but in the course of cleaning up, I saw a t-shirt which had some (what I thought to be) offensive words on it. With the liquid courage flowing through my veins, I confronted my son. He hated when I drank because I became belligerent and more paranoid than usual. I started yelling at him, grabbed a pair of scissors, and dramatically started to cut the t-shirt into pieces. He started yelling back, and got in my face. It was like all of his pent up frustration with my careless actions had come to a head. I knew that I had become a stranger and unnecessarily stressed him out. It was like I was unconsciously pushing him away because I was sad he would be leaving me soon. I became more angry when he got in my face; I saw that as disrespect because I grew up in an era where children did not talk back to adults, let alone yell or argue with them. I had been taught to simply do what my parent said whether I liked it or not. His 5'7'' frame towered over my 5'3'' one. He was holding his phone and I snatched it out of his hand; he snatched it back. In a knee-jerk reaction, I slapped him. Hard. So hard that it cut his lip. I tried to hit him again and he grabbed my wrists and wouldn't let go. When I got free, I called the police. I wanted to teach him a lesson for challenging me. Big Mistake. To my surprise, when the police came, I was the one who got arrested. They were familiar with my mental health issues because I had been T.D.O.ed more times than I'd like to admit. The officers could tell I had been drinking. I had assaulted my son, and even though I was wrong, one of the officers told my son that his actions toward me were disrespectful. In the squad car, the officer sympathized with me concerning the argument, but said he had no choice but to arrest me because I had hit my son and drew blood.

At the jail, I was fingerprinted and booked. It was the weekend, and I wouldn't be arraigned until Monday morning. With my one phone call, I called my mom. When I spoke to her, I was told that my son had called her as soon as they took me and she was on her way to my apartment. At my arraignment, my bail was set at $2,000, which meant I needed $200 for a bail bonds man to get me out. I was in jail 10 days before my mom bailed me out. I guess she was trying to teach ME a lesson. By the time I got back home, the damage had already been done. I was on Section 8 and had missed my annual inspection. They refused to come out a third time because they had made two attempts to complete it while I was in jail. They ended my Section 8. Without it, I could not afford to stay in the nice apartment my son and I had lived in for 9 years. I appealed their decision, but they didn't change their minds. So a few months later, I was forced to pack our things and owed back rent to boot. I was evicted and my son and I became homeless. I was devastated, not only because I lost my apartment, but because it was also my son's senior year in high school and now his life had been uprooted too because of me.

One argument. One Slap. One phone call. A multitude of consequences. On the last day of our tenancy, I swallowed my pride, went to my son's school and told his counselor and principal that we were now homeless. They helped by allowing my son to finish the school year there, even though he would be staying with my mom on the other side of town. They also supplied weekly gas cards to my mom for her to take him to and from school. My son ended up living with my mom until he went away to college. Me, on the other hand, out of stubbornness, decided to live in my car. How foolish I was. Living in my car for a month in the dead of winter and snow was a sobering and humbling experience. I eventually conceded that I had a drinking problem and checked myself into a rehab program.

What has this experience taught me? It has taught me to be grateful for what I have. I didn't appreciate what I had until I had lost it. It has taught me to never take the people in my life for granted. My actions destroyed what was left of my relationship with my son. He no longer speaks to me. This experience has taught me the importance of taking care of my health--physically, spiritually AND mentally. I had come to the realization of how my actions affected others. One seemingly unrelated event, caused a chain reaction of events that changed my life tremendously, and my perspective shifted to things that truly matter. And lastly, I learned the importance of controlling my anger. Unfortunately, I learned this the hard way. The Bible admonishes us to be slow to speak, slow to anger, and quick to listen; I now understand why.