Temper Your Temper for the Holidays
Years ago I was having lunch with a brilliant mentor of mine who had become a great friend. I was ranting and raving like some cable news host, basically arguing for my right to be really, really ticked off about a variety of things. It was as though I were pleading my case before a court of law and wanted the judge, my mentor, to conclude that I was absolutely right to feel exactly as I did. I wanted a person I respected to validate my mood.
But the judge did not rule in my favor. My friend was his usual calm self when he said, in a very loving but firm manner, “Richard, I understand why you are mad, but why so mad?”
“Why so mad?” Such a simple phrase, but it flipped the switch in my mind. Others have told me that those three words gave them “lightbulb moments” as well.
There are so many ways for people to let us down. And just as my friend didn’t tell me that I shouldn’t be angry or disappointed, I won’t tell you that. But do we have to get as mad as we do?
We may think we don’t have any control over the degree of hurt or anger we feel. Feelings just happen. But that’s the beauty of “why so mad?” It stops the runaway train of our feelings for a moment, and often, by simply stopping to notice and question them, we can change—or at least diminish—them.
The goal is perspective. Is your anger proportionate to the slight? Is there some reason that you are reacting the way you are, never mind what they have done or said? If ’you’re having a bad day, or grappling with an illness in the family, or struggling at work or with your finances, something that might not normally get under your skin can become the excuse to let off unrelated steam. Are you angry because of what someone has done, or because it’s the fifth time that person has done it? Asking “why so mad?” not only helps you understand what you’re feeling but nine times out of ten takes quite a bit of the oomph out of those feelings.
I had the chance to observe this when I was on hold with my phone company for an hour and fifteen minutes. After about fifteen minutes, I was impatient. After forty-five, I was pacing the floor, my mind filled with all sorts of angry thoughts—I was going to change carriers and read the rep (if one ever picked up!) the riot act. I was going to write letters and speak to supervisors because somehow, some way, I had to get someone to compensate for my valuable lost time.
While I was pacing, my eyes fell on my favorite photo of my daughters. It sounds corny, but this reminded me that the world was not out to get me; I had a pretty darn good life. I stopped pacing. Even though I was still on hold, the runaway train of emotions was stopped. Rather than just feeling furious, I could observe that I was furious, recognize that I was in the middle of an annoying situation, and ask myself whether I really needed to be as wound up as I was. I ruled against it. My darn good life didn’t need to be derailed by the phone company.
There are certain questions in life—“why so mad?” being one of them—that seem to answer themselves. The wisdom is built into the question. Sure, it was irritating to be on hold for the length of a feature film, but let’s face it, there’s no reason I should be exempt from such irritations. No one was out to get me personally, and though it certainly was too long to be listening to Muzak versions of classic rock, this kind of thing happens. I decided I didn’t have to be “so mad” about this and wrote replies to a few e-mails while I waited for the phone company rep to find me. I felt better, the problem was eventually solved and I tempered my temper, which made everybody feel better—starting with me.