Ticking Timebomb

When I first decided to get my foot in the door of a mental health profession, my years of nutrition and supplement sales didn’t provide much background. Well, as any resume building youngster knows, sometimes you take a position that isn’t exactly a dream job, but it gives that much-needed experience. My first job in the field was working with adolescents who struggled in life. The struggle could have been legal, family, even as insignificant as truancy. So, some legal entity decided that a “group home” would be the best place for them. Unfortunately, what happened was that a bunch of kids, ages 11-18 were put together in a house-like facility, and other inexperienced people like myself were placed in charge. During the day there were the clinical staff, the counselors, even a doctor, however after hours, the place was ran by 2-3 staff of similar capabilities.

 

One particular evening a young gentleman whom had lived there for a while, was being more “defiant” than usual. Typically because the kids lived there and staff was consistent in what shifts they work, we got along. There were those “rough nights” however where something else was going on in the kids’ lives and “acting out” was the result. In this instance it was dinner time. I made dinner, so I was in the typically-locked kitchen. One of the boys came in and grabbed a yogurt. Now, it was already a big discussion about food, dinner, and a whole mess of other rules to provide structure, so the taking of a yogurt was deemed more problematic to the structure than the actual yogurt. He grabs the yogurt knowing this and remind him of the rules. He puts the yogurt in front of him because I ask for it. He immediately snatches it back, pops the top, and proceeds to squeeze it in his mouth. I look at him and say something about a consequence (cannot remember exact procedure) however, he then holds the half-empty cup out again, and when I go to take it this time, the mouthful of yogurt, (now combined with saliva) gets sprayed all over my face.

 

I saw him do it before I felt it. I saw his eyes. I recall the full cheek muscles contract before the final blow. As soon as this now, body-temperature blueberry-yogurt and spit mixture strikes the face. I feel it. I feel the anger. I feel my body tense. For a millisecond the body wants a desired response of inflicting punishment. Due to an intervention, a sliver of rationale, I simply turn around. I see the other kids faces as I leave the kitchen. My face covered in yogurt, my shirt, my pants even, have specs of blueberry on them. This I do not care about. What I care about now is allowing the intense feeling to pass. Walking, looking at the ground. Making sense of the situation, of his reaction to me simply doing my job. The thoughts come in of the job not being worth it, this kid is a lost cause, poisonous thoughts, however my body is able to relax shortly thereafter and reasonable actions implemented.

 

I was watching the news this morning (against my choice though the gym equipment was right in front of it) and a pastor of some sort was on Fox News discussing how Donald Trump’s comment to the most recent mass shooting involved “thoughts and prayers.” Some of the comments that followed stated how prayer did nothing for the people who are now dead, we need policy (or something like that). Another comment was also attacking the President for something he “should have” done.

 

I was talking to a friend of mine about the gym. He is a rational man, a good man. He tells me of an instance in the gym where a gentleman took his equipment. He says that the other guy was rude when he did it, and this caused my friend’s blood to “boil.” He didn’t do anything, simply just felt a certain way. A way he described as angry.

 

I lived with my brothers for a while and Trevor, the hour oldest of the twins, ate my food. He had this tendency to leave the wrappers where the food was supposed to be. I guess thinking that if he takes the whole thing then he is guilty, but if he leaves the wrapper then it’s not technically gone? Either way, I considered it gone. The worst part and something I have experienced before this and since, was that he denied it. Flat out, “nope, it wasn’t me.”

 

“Um, yea dude, you did. Just say you did. That is all I want.”

 

“Nope.”

 

At this point, the flat denial has me livid. Yes, livid. Only my brothers or yogurt getting spit on my face are times I can recall being this state of anger.

 

He never claimed responsibility and still to this day this story strikes me as odd I’d get so upset. The thing with my brother is that I know him, I know he did it. Is all I truly wanted was admission of guilt. I just wanted validation he did it, he felt bad, or whatever and that he recognizes my strong feelings. This a gift he could not, or would not provide. I still want him to admit it, but he never slips. Almost makes me think I am crazy.

 

What do all of these instances have in common besides they were the most immediate stories I could think of for examples? Well, they involve anger that wasn’t there, now appearing. Yes, I consider myself mild mannered, much like the gentleman who commented on the President probably does, but in reality, are we? Are we really doing as well as we present in life? If any instance can enrage us, are we as calm as we want to think we are? Are we simply doing well, enough, rather than doing well, throughout? Sometimes we don’t know what will “set us off,” yet when it does, we have to look at why, how, and pin point something we may need to work on.

 

The gentleman with the comments regarding the President and his prayers might be struggling with finding a job, or maybe he was emotionally connected to the killings and wants what we all want, change. Being in a state of rage and having the Internet there to spray our hate is not always the best way to go about working on ourselves. Again, I guess it all depends if you want to do that. I guess If you’re happy being miserable, then you don’t have to work on your anger at all, or anything for that matter. You can continue through life ruining other’s along the way.