I am not a religious man. Never have been. Not for a lack of trying on my parents’ part, by the way. They baptized me a Catholic, made me go to church and Sunday school and confession, the whole nine yards. It just never took. Oh, I believe there’s some higher power out there somewhere, something that decided to create the Big Bang and then sat back to watch what would happen, but I have a hard time believing that something is what people would like to conceive of as God or Allah or whatever name they’d like to give it.
I talk about religion here only because I have no idea of the title of this post is a real chapter or verse or book or whatever in the Christian bible or not, and if it is I have no idea what it’s talking about. I gave this post its title because I had a personal revelation on January 7th of this year.
I have been WAY too frickin’ tightly wound lately! What the hell is wrong with me?! Case in point: Cookiemaker, Little Man, and I went over to Mrs. Chili’s house not long ago to have a movie night with her and her family. We all ordered pizza for dinner. Cookiemaker and I forgot to pay for our part of the pizza that night. So, the other day I remembered that I had some cash in my wallet and that Cookiemaker was going to see Chili later that day, so I asked her which jacket she was going to wear so I could put the cash in the right jacket so she could pay Chili. Cookiemaker hemmed and hawed for not even a minute, debating which jacket to wear depending upon what the weather was going to be like that day, and I just snapped! I crumpled up the money, practically jammed it down her throat and walked away without a word because I was suddenly out of patience and decided I had better things to do than wait for her to make a simple decision.
Do I have stress in my life? Sure I do. I’m a husband, a father, a student, an intern, and a part-time jewelry salesperson. Money is tight. I don’t get to spend nearly as much time as I’d like to with my family, my friends, or by myself. This past holiday season sucked. No, my life is not perfect or what I would like it to be.
So what? That describes most people’s lives. Everybody has stress. Nobody has a perfect life. So where do I get off taking it out on my wife? I don’t, and I shouldn’t. I should grow up, suck it up, and deal with it. And I should do so with a smile while I’m at it. Count my blessings, that sort of thing. I do have beautiful wife who loves me and spoils me rotten, and I should be grateful to her, not an a-hole. I have a beautiful son who’s healthy and happy and loves his Daddy. I have a loving, healthy relationship with my parents and my sister, no small feat apparently in this day and age. I am gainfully employed. I have shelter and clothing and food and toys and transportation. I have access to further my education.
I would love any and all advice from any and all of you that can help me lighten the hell up. Kind words, tough love, whatever it takes.