With a (surprising) lack of expression of anger in our house today, I was at a loss as to how to express pissed through a photograph. As the day wore on, though, I realized that I had been nursing an old anger at myself, refreshed by the creation of a new Facebook group created as a memorial to deceased high school classmates.
A dear friend died in 2005. I was and still am angry with myself for falling out of contact with her, for not picking up the phone despite thinking about it frequently for the last several years of her life. I will never have the opportunity again. I am equally angry with myself for giving in to the expectations of others and attending a family event instead of her memorial. It was the wrong choice. An understandable one, a difficult one, but wrong nevertheless.
No, I'm not unnecessarily beating myself up over it. I miss her appropriately and I hold myself appropriately responsible for my choices.
What do you learn from your disappointment in yourself? Is it easier or harder for you to be pissed at yourself than pissed at another person? Griffin immediately thought of the latter. One brother has a penchant for pestering the others. The black mark is a pinch.
On the up side, Griff mentioned today that he feels lucky to have Reese...because he's annoying in a good way. If a burglar ever breaks into our house, he'll annoy the robbers by being noisy enough to wake the rest of us up, and we can call the police.
