Rage

I am an angry man.

I have a simmering disdain for people. I have, for a long time. Maybe it is a steady morning diet of Jerry Springer and Maury. Maybe it is a profession that puts me in contact with people when they are at their absolute worst.

These are contributing factors, but not the cause.

I dislike other people because I am not too crazy about myself, at times.
I cannot believe other people genuinely want to be near me, to love me, to be a part of my life... because there are large portions of time when I don't.

I see that I am closed off. I see that I am inconsiderate. I see that I am selfish. And I don't like it. Why would anybody else?

I knew that I was angry at Cheryl. That was a no-brainer. The fact that my anger was born while I was in an altered state (a drunk) made it easier for me to bottle it up and incorporate it into my personality than it was to deal with it.

I knew I was angry at Les. Again, obvious. I had so much going on at the time. I had lost my job, my house, my hometown... it was easier to assign all the hurt, anger, and blame over those things to Les. Instead of these things being separate problems, they became one big problem. It was so big, I didn't know where to begin working on it. Bottling it up and making it part of my personality seemed to take care of it before, so I did it again.

I honestly thought I was healthy. I thought I was well adjusted.

Someone "close" to me finally called me on my issues. I say "close" because a person can only get so close to me before I start shutting them out.
My initial response was, well, anger... and satisfaction. I was right. Letting people into your life only sets you up for being abandoned.

I sent out a matter of fact email to certain people, letting them know that the affair was over. I then sat down and prepared to forget about it and move on.

I didn't forget.
Things she had said to me resonated.
They echoed in my head.
I got defensive.
Angry.
It didn't stop.

After several days of reflecting on what she had said, I went to a bookstore. I went to the self help section, a place I had never been.
I was fine, after all.

I stood and looked at books for over an hour, unable to tell the gurus from the quacks. I picked out several books to purchase. It couldn't hurt me to read them.

One book deals with transference, bringing your past into the present, assigning past roles to new people.

A light went on in my head.
I realized that I had spent most of my adult life trying to cast new women into a role that couldn't be recast... shouldn't be recast.

I also realized that I was very, very angry at May for leaving.

That shook me to the core.