When Patience Runs Out

It is said that animals are most dangerous when wounded. This animal – me – was recently wounded by the unexpected death of my sister. I am in a take no prisoners mood, particularly with a few people whose shit treatment of me I have, until this morning, let slide. Life and its attending challenges are tough enough without having to deal with self-absorbed, no conscience wimps, who profess to all the world they are caring, loving people. Perhaps it was the likes of these folk that led to the term lip-service. 

An old friend of mine once told me I was too patient with people. This may be true. That said, when someone with a lot of patience runs out of patience, the result is not pretty. Nor should it be. This morning I fired off a few emails ripping into a few of the above referenced individuals. While I took no pleasure in writing them, I don’t regret a single word, not even a syllable. 

Not nice is not strong

If someone says, “I know I’m not being nice to you, but I have to be tough,” they’ve memorialized the completely false assertion that being unkind is, somehow, an act of strength.

Rubbish.  Being unkind requires no strength. Zero. All it does is wound, and repulse.

Giving anger decision making power is a lot easier than managing it in a healthy way. Anger, in and of itself, is not the problem, the relation one has with it can be.

Respect is never too much to ask for; neither is kindness.