Passive aggressive 6 year old. That is in reference to ME.
Today Papa Mark handed me my Turbo Taxed paperwork to doublecheck. Numbers. Immediately, my blood pressure rose, and I was angry. Numbers. Mentally, I stomped my feet as I headed down to the studio.
I plunked down at the desk and tossed the neatly stacked and separated papers across the surface. The numbers on the papers just started laughing at me and mocking me. Just looking at the stack of papers, I got all sniffly and teary, but made myself stop. "Just calm down. Breathe. Take your time and look before you get upset." So I did.
I actually located and checked the amount of gross income I had and even figured out that the next figure on the sheet somehow matched the sum of the interest in my savings account. Whew! Two down and ..........so many to go.....
The next numbers referred to dividends or something, and didn't seem to match up to any of the thousands of other numbers on the other papers. Then I started getting angry again. Why do I have to do this? Maybe I can just sign the papers and hope for the best. But that didn't sound very grown up. Maybe I should just ask Mark to check it for me. THAT would be humiliating. But as I sat there stewing and crying and being angry, I called upstairs and asked for help.
"Sure. Let me finish checking my own numbers first."
That made me feel better, but I was still really angry over having to deal with numbers at all. I went ahead and signed the paperwork while I was waiting, and immediately discovered that I signed the wrong place. I took my black pen and scratched it out in big ugly lines, the entire signature, social security number, and date line. Surprisingly, I didn't go ahead and just ball it all up and throw it on the floor. I contained the anger to that level, however.
I did thank Mark after he checked it for me. Perfectionist that HE is, he didn't comment on the nasty scrached out lines on the papers he so neatly prepared for me. The man even took it inside the Post Office and mailed it for me and bought me lunch at my favorite restaurant.
The realization was not lost on me that I am not that far removed from the frustrated first grader I teach. The one who will ball up his art work in anger if it isn't up to his standards. I try to be patient with him and give him plenty of space if he needs it. I don't know what you can do for an inwardly angry person, except for giving them a wide berth, and trying to be kind.
I really believe that getting humbled is probably good for you once in a while. It just isn't very fun.