We’ve all been there;  One moment perfectly calm and reasonable.  Then the next moment, completely pissed off and out of control.  How does this happen?  We’re not kids anymore (well except those people who still are kids).  With age has come patience, tolerance and control.  Hasn’t it?

One of the skills I have been practising of late has been the Art of Non Engagement. There were multiple moments in the (aforementioned in previous blogs) Dark Years where I desperately wanted to explain, tell off, and outright yell at people who I was convinced were so obviously wrong, stupid or ignorant.  The situations themselves were volatile enough without adding sizzling emotion to the mix.  There were times when I survived the moment purely by picturing myself striking the offender. Repeatedly.  And I am not a person prone to any kind of physical violence.  Except once when I was eight and punched my older sister in the nose and made it bleed. That hardly counts.

WAIT!  I guess there was another occasion, this time in my university years when a complete stranger tapped me on the shoulder to get my attention before ripping my shirt open at a Stampede dance.  I right-crossed him in the nose, too.  Delighted that it was broken, I stood mesmerized by the blood pouring forth giving him time to hit me back.  But I digress.

I was involved more recently in a meeting which was guaranteed to be emotionally turbulent (why yes – a lawyer was involved).  In preparation, I pre-scripted and practiced my dialogue and demeanor so as to appear (therefore BE) in control, mature, not to mention RIGHT.  I said little if anything for the first half which had the unexpected benefit of lulling my opponent into believing I was too dumb to understand what crap had been presented. When my ‘turn’ arrived, I was clear, direct, professional, even polite despite the predictable verbal excrement hurled in my direction.  While my newly-found calm seemed to escalate my nemesis into a venom-spitting frenzy, her loss of control stimulated even more honey from my Sweetness Cortex in mild tones surprisingly devoid of expletives.  I surprised even myself.

Outwardly, I was as unfazed as a slumbering deaf dog.  Inwardly I seethed, suffering several broken blood vessels in one eye from skyrocketing blood pressure and who knows what else.  I fooled them!  But who paid the price?

I would say it was a win-win situation.  Despite my temporary minor injuries, I won that match & set.  Absolutely.  And I won again by realizing the power of silence.  Few people claim, “Geez, I wish I would have gone berserk and fought that jerk!”  Nope. But I’ll bet there are lots of folks who regret acting out.  Me? My Anti Anger Orbit Techniques are still a work in progress, but at least I hope I no longer present such a tempting target.