Hello! I’m Walther, this is Peregrino, and you’re about to read essay #17 of “40 Before 40,” a memoir I intend to finish before I enter midlife. Make sure to subscribe if you haven’t, and enjoy!
I heard somewhere that what you’re told as a kid shapes who you are. Growing up, I was told I was an “enojón,” that’s tetchy in Spanish. I remember frequently getting worked up and frustrated when I couldn’t control a situation, which, if you’re a kid, it’s only all of the time. Still, I grew up believing that about me; I have a bad temper and am prone to explode.
My dad is the strong silent type until he loses his temper. He has mellowed out in the last two decades, but he was capable of instilling the fear of God in us as children. However, his anger would be like a match, fiery red hot for a moment, and back to normal—a towering figure, severe looking and intimidating, but loving and playful when in a good mood.
One time, we picked up my mom from work, and she was crying. When my dad asked why, my mom told him one of her coworkers had provoked her tears. He waited for him to get to the parking lot, and while we were all in the car, he unleashed his fury on him, threatening the abuser and defending his wife’s honor. I thought he would rip this guy’s head off, and I wanted in on the action.
My mom doesn’t have Irish roots, but she sure bottles up all her emotions until they spill out. I combined both styles and made them my own.
I grew up fighting with my cousin every Sunday at my grandparents' house from ages five through ten when we finally started getting along. There were bloody noses and copious tears from both sides. Eventually, sarcasm replaced physical aggression, and verbal attacks became the norm.
The closest I’ve gotten to being in a fight was in middle school when I pinned a kid against the wall, and he swung his fist and hit my ear, making me lose balance for a second; enough for a couple of teachers, including my dad, coming to see what the commotion was about. On the car ride home, my dad asked if I had started the fight; I told him I hadn’t and was just defending myself. He seemed proud of me almost.
Even though I would take pride in being a pacifist and not wanting to engage in fistfights, I would weaponize my words and consider myself witty for knowing how to put down people or using sarcasm to make fun of someone. I was stupid, petty, sensitive, and vindictive. Eventually, I realized these characteristics were unattractive, and I was setting myself up for failure if I continued down that path.
I realized that hurt people hurt people, and I had to deal with my shit and work on myself. Three years of Gestalt therapy helped me focus on the here and now and understand what I’m responsible for and not. Getting a gastric sleeve, losing weight, and gaining confidence also helped. Then, learning about the cardinal virtues, prudence, justice, fortitude, and temperance gave me some direction.
When I met Diana, I knew I wanted to be the husband she deserved. As a Catholic husband, I’m supposed to love my bride the same way Christ loves His. He died on the cross for His bride, the Church. I don’t know if you have tried dying to yourself; it’s no picnic.
Going from single to married man required an adjustment. Diana and I have different approaches to conflict resolution. She likes to discuss things right away, while I need time to process and think things through before I can talk. We’ve been married for almost nine years and are still figuring things out. Especially since time relentlessly keeps moving forward and our kids keep entering new stages in life, bringing new challenges with it.
Remember how I said my dad would instill the fear of God in us as children? Guess who took a page from his book when it was his turn to be a dad? That’s right, yours truly. I can be an ogre sometimes. The good news is that I’m aware of and working on it. I don’t want my kids to remember me as being a kind of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde around them.
It can get overwhelming at times. When you factor in sleep deprivation with sensory overload, it can hit you like a ton of bricks. There are good days, and there are bad days. Some days I’m batting 1.000; I’m patient, in control of my emotions, and able to discipline my children firmly but lovingly. On other days I’m heavy-handed, scary, and all justice, no mercy. Balance is key.
I’ve noticed that on days I fast, I have more patience and am willing to endure annoyances that may present themselves during the day with a better disposition, for the most part. Staying in the state of grace by going to the sacrament of reconciliation and receiving the Eucharist on Sundays helps enormously.
I’ve also been meditating on meekness as a combo of self-control and humility. I know, super attractive. Lastly, I recently decided to return to therapy and continue working on this. I’m okay with dealing with my anger for the rest of my life as long as I see some improvement, even if minimal.
And you know what’s the most exciting thing I’ve discovered? Sometimes, it’s not even anger; it’s something else. Anger is the catch-all bucket, but if you look at something like The Feelings Wheel, you’ll find that you may be lacking the vocabulary to express what you’re experiencing. Feeling betrayed is very different from feeling annoyed; these two feelings fall under the anger umbrella.
The human experience is fascinating. Now that I’m closer to forty, I recognize that as an embodied soul, I need to take care of myself in many different aspects, physical, mental, and spiritual, and if any of them is out of wack, there’s no balance. I don’t want to become a curmudgeon that nobody wants to be around. I want to experience the joy that lasts.
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Before you go
I have some questions for you
What did your parents tell you as a kid that you carried with you to adulthood?
What grinds your gears?
Is 2003’s Anger Management so bad that is good?
What do you think was causing Grumpy from the seven dwarfs to be that?
How do you deal with anger?
Grumpy wanted to pursue a career in music. But as a dwarf he was forced into the mining profession. His roommates didn’t understand his passion for sick beats. They just wanted to dig in the dirt. He was emo before emo was cool. His only joy was his pipe organ.
This is beautiful, an instant favorite. Well done!
1- My dad's mantra was "Comply then complain"--but it was a trick, because once I had complied he didn't care about hearing my complaint. My parents were not explainers, I have resolved to be different.
2- Not being listened to. The only thing I want in any argument is to be listened to. When I had problems with my bosses, it was because they wouldn't listen to me. When I had problems with my family--it's because they wouldn't listen to me. I take being listened to very seriously because very frequently I have been ignored or disrespected or certain people think they know better than me. They might! But I want to talk about it.
5- I'm the quiet type. 90% of the time, when people are angry I usually internalize it as something I have done. I am working on untangling that nasty self-talk habit. But it means that I don't like to mouth off, I spend a lot of time stewing about stuff before I take action. When I am provoked, my focus is on de-escalating or prevention--trying to get control of a situation that is getting out of control. Recently had an argument where someone was speaking out of turn on a topic about my personal life that they were ignorant about, and I told them "don't go there" and they blew up more than I did.
Great essay. Thank you very much for sharing this--I know its easy to write about and probably hard to live, but this has been inspiring to read!