What Really Goes On In This Steel Trap Of My Head...

I think the older I become the less tolerant I am becoming which is sad kinda. I had always hoped I’d mellow out with age like my dad has. But no, I find myself being more impatient as I wait in line, finding a solution to a problem, listening to someone drone on and on about whatever, or those who are just not kind.

Outwardly I smile, and nod a lot. Keeping my mouth shut helps. Inside my head there is this ongoing monologue that goes something like this:

“I could give a shit about the fact you are broke and in 50k worth of debt. You are the one who went on the spending sprees not me. You have three cars, all your kids are in private school, you have more bling than Elizabeth Taylor ever had, and a fucking maid for God’s sakes. Just shut up.”

“You’re frustrated and hurt because you can’t have a fifth child? Really? You are talking to the wrong person.”

“No, I don’t know the way to 24 hour fitness in South East Portland, DO I LOOK LIKE I KNOW THE FUCKING WAY TO 24 HOUR FITNESS!!?!?!”

“If you write one more thing down on your clip board to place in my therapy file I am going to get up and smack you upside the head. I mean It!! don’t.you.dare.write.one.more.thing.down.about.what.I.say.about.my.father”

“Jesus Christ, its so dirty in here I am afraid to sit down, fuck who lives like this?”

“Blah blah blah blah blah I am so not listening to you pontificate you asshole.”

“And they gave you a teaching license? You couldn’t teach a gorilla to eat a banana”

“I am glad he’s dead, what an asshole loser jerk off who never did deserve you.”

What do I really say?

Pretty much – “Oh I am so sorry you are experiencing “X” – that must be so hard. Is there anything I can do to help?”

I wonder what would happen if I really just said what I thought.