I swear....

I'm not good with words. They just seem to come out all wrong. Ever been in an argument, when all you see is red and have spit foaming at the mouth, and every word that comes out of your cake hole is anything but coherent? That happens to me a lot, especially when I'm angry (No, not the red face and foaming spit). My problem is bigger...I swear! Not your run of the mill, cutesy slang. Full force profanity, sometimes with complete disregard to who's around me, is my area of expertise.

I have been known to verbally abuse (to the point of getting into a physical fight), people who have rubbed me the wrong way, especially on my off days. And have in many instances done this in front of my parents, husband, and on the rare (uncontrollable) occasion my kids. No, I'm not proud of myself, nor do I condone this kind of behavior. But I just don't know why I do it!! I blame it on my unconventional upbringing (YEAH YOU TWO...I"M BLAMING YOU!). I was never repremanded for cussing infront of my parents. One would think I would have been really scared of swearing in front of my dad (military guy), but no. I do remember him telling me once that it was rather unladylike to swear, but I told him I was as unladylike as they come. Never looked back since.

The last few years have become dramatically worse. I was under the deluded impression that as we grow older, we get more somber. In my case, the preservation of youth has taken an all new meaning. Now that I have kids of my own, I find myself trying to cut back the verbiage. Sometimes audibly talking myself out of swearing at some idiot for infraction on my sensibilities, as limited as they may be.

Road rage takes on a whole different persona. Ever been at a red light, being the first to stop and have everyone behind you honk, since they assume red means go? By the time I drive a short distance I've either resurrected someone's dead grandmother or nearly fractured my middle finger flipping people off. If I'm alone in the car, the sound of the radio is completely drowned out by a string of profane words aimed at, supposedly, educated people let loose on the road in a vehicle, with worse driving skills than mine (and that is no complement).

I've been doing some research on anger management and so far, have come up zilch. One school of thought is: if angry, let your feelings be shown. Another, touts the benefit of suppressing angry thoughts and channeling positive messages. Someone else suggests meditation to avoid the whole internal conflict issue altogether. BU*****T!!

Mark Twain put it best: 'When angry, count to four; when very angry, swear."
But why this realization now? Well, my dear husband is convinced that if I don't get a handle on my senses, I'm the next candidate for the Grim Reaper. I'd like to disagree, but I'm too much of a realist not to consider his advise. So I have taken it upon myself to find a solution to my possible untimely demise. I've started ignoring! As the old saying goes...Ignorance is Bliss, I'd rather be happy and ignorant for sixty seconds, than be angry and miserable for 1 minute.