Skeletons 3.6: My Reactiveness -Part 1

**This was originally published in September, 2020**

I started this post about a year ago and the time has come to finish it.

I think I have a legit anger problem.  At 7+ years sober, I only just recently figured this out about myself a couple weeks ago.

H had pissed me off about something that, of course, I can’t remember now.  I was (and still am) trying to quit smoking cigarettes. So naturally, my go to when I am mad at him is to rebel. I went, bought a pack, took them home and puffed 2 down in a matter of 10 minutes (or less!)

I felt guilty after and it hit me right then and there: wow, anger is a major trigger for me.

Just like I did when I drank.  I drank AT people, places and things.


I have now been sober from alcohol for 8.5 years.  Exactly 102.06 months, 3,106 days and 74,549 hours.

And guess what?!? 15 days ago, I hit 2 years clean from Adderall.

Both of those are miracles but I’ve got even a better one that I cannot wait to tell you about.

Up until 4 months ago, I was still struggling with my anger management.  While I was no longer experiencing episodes of rage, I was still allowing my emotions to get the best of me; leaving me filled with tremendous guilt, shame, and remorse.

Earlier this year, we had house guests for the whole month of February.  Towards the end of their stay, I was ready for things to “go back to normal” and wasn’t coping very well.  My husband had been following the virus infiltrating our country and preparing our home for the impending lockdowns; and like many Americans in the early days, I didn’t truly understand the severity of what we were facing and that ” going back to normal” was never going to happen.

One week left in February and my car was towed from outside my house.  I was enraged.  The next morning, upon arriving at the tow lot, I saw that the gate was open.  So instead of going into the office to pay for the release of my car, I decided I would just walk on the lot and take it.

Adrenaline had taken over and aint’ nobody was going to stop me.  I was immediately approached by a man who told me I wasn’t allowed in there and I walked right past him and told him I was just getting my wallet – which – was a lie.  I was literally going to steal my own car.  

Long story short, I shared some choice words with the manager and then immediately fell apart into a puddle of tears.  And guess what? My car wasn’t there.  It was at their other lot.  When we got to the other lot, I was met with what looked like an intercom.  I could hear the woman inside dealing with another customer as I pushed the button.

No answer.

I push it again.

No answer. 

My husband suggests that maybe the other lot had called and warned them that I was coming, which incensed me even more.  So I started pushing the button non stop. The woman finally responds out the door “I’m with a customer, I’ll be with you soon” and how did I respond?

Me: “THAT’S ALL YOU HAD TO F&%$ING SAY!”

Her: “Don’t you talk to me like that! Just for that, you’re gonna sit out there longer!”

I was already crying and now I’m sitting on the curb, in the fetal position, balling, as my family watched from the car.  “Longer” was just a couple minutes and then I was let in.  I apologized for cussing at her and she nearly cut me off and said “do not use that language again” or something to that effect, to which I replied “I just apologized.” 

I went on to explain that the reason I was so upset was because the last time I had my car towed was because I had been arrested for my second DUI and now 9 years later, it’s being towed from outside my house because of my service to another; never mind that I was breaking rules I never took the time to learn.  The woman seemed cold – she couldn’t care less.  I wanted her to join my pity party and she was declining my invite.

When we went to retrieve my wallet, I apologized again and she acknowledged that the button I pushed over and over looks like an intercom, so she understood why I felt like I was being ignored. 

But I still couldn’t really get myself together.  I was on the verge of tears the entire time.  When departing in the lot, I don’t remember what I said to her as I let the tears start rolling down my face again.  But I do remember what she said,

“It’s going to be okay. Just pray.”

My heart burst open.  I said “I love Jesus and I do pray.” 

And then we hugged. 

#morewillberevealed

Published by Holly "Pixie" Hust

I am a "12 Stepper" who also practices harm reduction recovery in sunny southern California. I am a wife and mother who strives to help other women discover their relationship with alcohol and how they can live their best lives without it.

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