Am I the only one who loses the power of speech when they get mad? Kudos to those rare creatures who keep their composure in intense situations. I am certainly not one of them. I will illustrate:
It was late summer, and I was home in the “promised land” visiting my folks. While I was there, I helped my brother and a motley crew of assistants move a small group of cows to a new pasture a couple of miles down the gravel road that hems Ben Ross reservoir, the local recreational waterhole – in and out, no fuss, no drama.
I don’t know what herb was laced in the pasture we moved the cows out of, but they would not stay on the road. Every corner, every downed fence, every patch of shade had to be explored. On this particular trip, we didn’t have any horses handy, and with the terrain we were chasing them out of, we could have used an entire cavalry.
After a mile or so of dealing with this circus, I was hot, out of breath and mad enough to spit nails. At that point, my dad and I were guarding an empty pullout area on a corner bordered by a dilapidated fence. Across the road from where we were standing was the public access dock, full of people at that hour of the day, including several adults who were at least a couple of beers into a real good time.
The cows eventually wandered their way closer to us and, unsurprisingly, took another shot at freedom. Through the ensuing scuffle, my dad kept his cool, exchanging jokey pleasantries with the folks on the dock and seemingly enjoying the convection oven-like evening breeze. Meanwhile, I tromped through the brush behind the cows, mute with rage and unsettlingly close to bursting a blood vessel.
Low-stress handling was the least of my priorities in that moment, but everybody knows you shouldn’t pick up a stick and swear at a group of brain-dead calves in front of company. My only option at several points was to yell at the cows to get them turned around and going down the road, however, very conscious of the curious out-of-towners on the dock, I tried my best to use my words instead of a handy rock or stick, though I was probably not successful in keeping the frustration out of my tone.
After we got them out of that sticky corner and traveling down the road at a good clip, the absurdity of the situation caught up to me, and I started laughing. It had just occurred to me that I sounded like a high school sports coach during a losing game – resorting to “Come on ladies!” and “Let’s go girls!” on the court and saving the real lambasting for the locker room.
That experience has since joined the litany of movie one-liners and anecdotes that my brain passes around like hors d’oeuvres anytime I find myself in need of a quick pick-me-up or something to snap me out of a bad mood. In fact, I’ve made a habit of jotting down these little gems of humor on Post-It notes and sticking them on my office wall. I have now amassed quite a collection, much to the chagrin and befuddlement of some of my office comrades, but that’s just the point. Since I have lots of options, there is always something to cheer, uplift or inspire, and it's gotten me through some tough and tender moments.
Life can’t and shouldn’t be one big joke, but keep your sense of humor handy, even if it’s aimed at yourself. A wounded ego is a heavy weight to carry around when you pile it on top of the responsibilities life already calls you to bear. To quote a wise woman, “The only way to get through life is to laugh your way through it. You either have to laugh or cry. I prefer to laugh. Crying gives me a headache.”
