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 |  My random thoughts and reactions to my everyday life. The voices like a forum. |
| I do not know quite what happened or when , but my hubby and I now qualify for seniors' discounts at some venues. This creates a quandary; in order to save money, but not face, we have to admit to our age. HMMMM..... We definitely do not consider ourselves to be old. In this day and age ,when people as a whole are living longer and healthier lives why are 'young seniors', those in their fifties, like moi, considered 'old'?? It's so true that age is just a perception! "Maturity" is very objective/subjective, and I object! Whew, a few years have skittered by since I composed this biography block. Those "fifties" are in the rear view mirror and they are distant, fond memories. Oh, I do not plan to stop writing any time soon. |
| PROMPT November 11th A reminder I could say to myself before I’m tempted to respond to anger with anger, to fear with fear, to negativity with negativity is... This too shall pass. I need to stop, take a calming breath and consider if my reply, my input, my reaction is necessary. Often people explode and express overwhelming emotion as they experience something. They could be in shock and in the throes of a sudden incident. Their anger, or fear, or negativity is not always directed at me. It is not a personal assault. They are having difficulty processing something very real and raw. I need not exacerbate the situation. The extreme emotion can roll of my back. Often when we're angry we need to vent, blow off steam. During this we may not be in a receptive state of mind and we may not hear anything other than reciprocated anger. We recognize what we are projecting when it returns as an echo. Further anger amplifies ours. Rage feeds off rage. I could remind myself to walk away. Do not engage. Do not take the bait. Do I need, or want the drama? Years ago, I worked in a highway-side restaurant that catered to a clientele of mainly travelers. One late afternoon a family walked in and sat at a table. The parents strapped their toddler son into a high chair and then attempted to shush him as they perused the menu. The boy screeched louder and louder. He pounded and kicked the table. Anything offered to him he threw. His grandparents tried speaking to him.That poor kid had just been released from the confines of a car seat where he'd been tightly belted for who knows how long. Now he was similarly confined. Everywhere he looked there were strangers. The restaurant was a new environment. He'd had enough. He did not have the skills to verbally and reasonably express his frustration, his irritation, his objections. He expressed his displeasure in the only manner he knew. I admired what the frazzled father did next. He did not respond with anger. He did not shout. He did not strike. He pulled his wailing son from the chair and carried him outside where he deposited the boy on the ground. Dad stood nearby as the boy screamed and kicked the stone wall. He permitted his child to vent and he removed the temper tantrum from the diningroom. He just stood and waited out the storm. When the child had spent himself, Dad hugged him and spoke quietly to him. They returned to their table hand in hand where this young man climbed back up into the high chair and accepted a much needed drink. He'd expunged his anger. Perhaps that patient parent believed this too shall pass. |
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