Can I get Another Fortune Cookie?

I overreacted again. If only it was just me that had to deal with the mixed bag of emotions after doing so. If only it was just me that was going to have to sift through the wreckage and clean up the mess.

Ugh, now I’m going to have to grovel at the feet of my victims again; ain’t gonna be the first time, or the last. Sounds pathetic, doesn’t it?

Guilt stinks!

So what is it, inside us, that when called upon will allow anger and confusion to be produced and released, most commonly on those we love, and usually as Shock and Awe?

Do you really want to know? Shhhhhhhhhhhhh, are you ready? Here it is:
INSECURITY!!!!!!!!

There you have it, the Godfather of all arguments! It’s the ringleader of regret, the ambassador to anxiety, and the shepherd of Should've-thought-it-through-ville.

A bouquet of negativity pieced together in an arrangement of indecision, anxiety, hesitancy, and self doubt; that’s insecurity.

Now as I raise this candle in front of me, I want you all to know that I am a recovering sufferer of massive insecurities. I am doing my best to make changes though, and according to my latest fortune cookie, I am very good with garden tools. Huh?

Anyway, it doesn't take a Rocket Scientist to know where overreaction comes from. I mean I haven't broken any new ground here.

Many of us have insecurities and for those who choose to stay unearthed and who have chosen to keep with the belief that excessive reactions, bearing highly inappropriate behavior and or violence, are warranted- WAKE UP!

In my humble opinion, it's time to let go of the complete lack of confidence and the plethora of selfishness. It's time, for me at least, to show my loved ones just how strong I can be. Now if I could just put a stop to the reactions snowballing out of control.

Unfortunately, I find myself tested time and time again and coming up a little short. Don't get me wrong, I have my moments where, I feel, I've handled situations perfectly. It's just that the ones I didn't handle so well, well, they just supersede.

I'll give you an example. One Friday evening not that long ago I was gleefully driving home from work. Somewhere along the way I started to realize just how magnificent that night was going to be. No rhyme or reason, just an innocent, non clinically proven manic depressive, clinging to a passing wave of joy. Gosh that sounds depressing. Anyway, the closer I got to home the more my appearance took on the look of a four year old who has just seen the Christmas tree skirted with presents. For some strange reason I picked this night to be the night that would define all others and by the time I got home I was bursting with anticipation. I do that so often; I get so pumped up and mega excited about something that it's almost destined for doom.

So what was going to make this evening so awesome you ask? Well, I figured we would eat something fun for dinner, play awesome games with the kids, give them a tub filled fun bath, read many many books and put them to bed. After that my perfect outline for adult time would be followed. It states; a Couple of drinks, a little Wii, a magnificent back rub for me and a few more drinks. Maybe even a pizza around eleven for good measure.

Look, when you're borderline bipolar, the simplest of activities can get you going. Nevertheless, I was so overly excited at how perfect the night was going to be that it should have been a sign.

Ok, I roll up the driveway and walk into the garage. Just as I'm hitting the button to close the door I hear my 3 year old crying and coughing. Then, with the audibility equal to that of a rock smashing through plate glass, my smile broke in half bringing the corners crashing down. My shoulders then dropped hard enough to allow my joints to dislocate, nearly putting my finger tips to the floor. My head then plunged, seemingly separating my spine, somewhere between cervical six and seven, I think.

I know I know! It was a cough and crying for goodness sake. You would have thought I was getting ready to walk into a concentration camp filled with mutants who were plagued by a flesh eating disease of biblical proportions. I just knew that my anticipation had murdered another awesome evening, which it had done so many times before.

Then, as the garage was almost finished sealing me in for good, I called upon my neck muscles and whipped my head around. I did this just in time to see a vision of all of the neighbors. They were hand to mouth pointing and giggling. It was in slow motion nonetheless. Their laughter was billowing around me to where I could feel the pressure on my face.

Now in spite of all this, I took in a deep breath and turned for the door. As I grabbed for the knob, I prepared myself for the mass quantities of decaying flesh and bone. I then gathered up my dangling extremities, up righted my flopping head and entered the dwelling a beaten man. I carefully tried to conceal my total annihilation of the weekend appearance and greeted my family. I then painfully hoisted my broken lips and did my best to hold together the fractured smile. My broken body began to give off pulsations of horrific pain, yet I listened as my wife spoke. She said to me "Guess what, DJ has a slight fever and Abby has a little tummy ache". Ohhhhhh the pain!!!

I know what you're thinking, not that big of a deal right? Yes, you would think that I could have just realigned my inner gear shifter to the "PARENT NEEDED MODE", right? Not me! Remember, I planned this night to stand apart from all others. For whatever reason, this was to be my swan song of Friday nights.

What I'm about to type now is exactly what I thought I heard come pouring out of my wife's mouth. I swear this is what she said; Gary Help!!! DJ has a fever of a hundred and twelve and is periodically bursting into flames! -And- Abby is in our room bleeding from the eyes, speaking in tongues, and projectile vomiting into all of our dresser drawers!

Now, after I held an imaginary fuel can above my head, doused myself, and struck up an entire book of matches, I proceeded forward with a counter offensive. It was as follows: Phase 1: I asked my wife how in the heck she could let all of this happen, AGAIN!
Phase 2: I told my daughter that she eats too much junk and NEVER eats anything healthy and that's why her stomach ALWAYS hurts.
Phase 3: And the most preposterous of the three installments to the "Sickness handling plan" was to ask my son to skip his next six years, moving him right to age ten.
This was not one of my shining moments let me tell you.

What's really sad is this is just one of many examples of my overreacting. Oy vey! Why can't I just relax and go with what's been presented in a more soothing, comforting manner that's best for everyone involved? Anger laced with confusion always seems to be the first bubble to come to the surface in my pot to pop. I want to handle change and adversity better, I really do!

Then, to throw in some more confusion, you have those times when I walk in the door and find my wife dressed in full riot gear. Obviously she is in preparation for my reaction to the latest less than perfect news. Ironically, those are the nights I come home full of hugs and with the strength of a thousand men. Go figure.

I can only imagine what it's like for my wife to have to give me news of a less the perfect nature. I picture two bridges for her to cross. One is a ten thousand year old, canyon connecting, wood stepped suspension bridge. It is supported by rope and is ready to snap at any second. The other is a ten thousand year old, canyon connecting, wood stepped suspension bridge. It is supported by rope and it too is ready to snap at any second.

How in the hell does she choose?