There was a time when I was known
for my temper. I could erupt quickly and
nastily and no one near me was safe. I
thought that time was long behind me.
But as my children move into their teenage years, I find my oldest at 15,
has found some buttons that can switch the rage back on. I thought those buttons had been lost in the
mists of time, or at least buried so deep in the recesses of my mind that I
would never see them again. But she has
deftly and easily uncovered them again, pressing them with abundance and
setting off the fury, turning me into someone I am ashamed of.
I grew up in a household where my
mum was very free with the use of her fists and various kitchen implements. She was young, frustrated and perhaps traumatized
from a lack of love and a mother in her own life. In turn, it made me quick with my insults and
my own hands, as my poor siblings will attest to.
I never thought much of my temper
and never cared much about the effect on other people. That was until I married the kindest, most
loving and most patient man. They say
that “Love brings up everything unlike itself for the purpose of healing and
release.” (A Course in Miracles by Helen Schucman). I can attest to the truth of this in my
marriage, my husband’s love and patience meant that I began to release some of
the anger, much of it in his direction in the beginning. I began to see the harm it could cause. Certainly, once I had my daughter, my
precious first-born, I realised that I couldn’t carry on as I once had.
I left Little Lady when she was two
and Little Man at eleven months old to go for Hajj with my husband. As the multitudes circles the Kabah and asked
Allah (SWT) for what they needed, I asked for one thing. I begged Allah (SWT) to help me control my
temper, to be kind and gentle and to not hurt those I loved the most and who
deserved it the least: my husband and child.
I didn’t feel the affect
immediately. But over the following
years, I felt myself mellow and become calmer.
I found options to manage my emotions, children and life that didn’t involve
hitting, shouting and blowing my top (the shouting did still happen
sometimes).
I thought I had cracked it, I thought
I had a good relationship with my children and I enjoyed being their mum. But
life has a way of humbling you and giving you reasons to crawl back to Allah
(SWT) on your knees and beg for help.
Perhaps this is that time. The buttons get pressed and the she-hulk
comes out again leaving me a mess and asking myself how I could have coped with
this situation differently. How do I
support my child, how do I listen properly?
When do I Iet go and say I have done my best and when do I straighten my
back and say I deserve better, I won’t be spoken to like that? Where do I hold my tongue for the sake of
nurturing this relationship and where do I speak up to guide my loved one away
from what’s wrong?
Today I was tired and anxious and craving
some quit time, and the she-hulk came out a little too quick. I sent everyone to bed in a harsh way when
perhaps I should have gathered them close and loved them until I felt soothed
and they had had their hearts fill and gone to bed themselves. I don’t know, but I suspect it would have
been better than sitting on my own feeling guilty and ashamed and thinking about
what damage I might have caused. If there
is anything good to come out of it, it gave me time to pause and reflect.
In the end I called LL in and sat
with her in a while, I asked her what she needed for me and what I could do to
help her. Now I am going to see if
anyone is awake that needs hugs.
I saw this and literally laughed
out loud, Little Lady couldn’t see why it was funny.
