My bitch slapping days are behind me!

Oh, boy! Was I ever pissed off on that day!

You’d think that whatever was going on March 18, 2015, I would have some recollection of it. I mean, I was so thoroughly irritated that I took to social media about it, so it must have been important, right?

Hardly.

I have zero recollection of why I was ready to strike out physically that day for someone else’s actions that were, in all likelihood, completely out of my control. But, I sure remember being ‘that’ person. The person who was so easily triggered by other people’s actions, choices, or perceived mistakes that I was ready to lash out. The anger and frustration would boil up inside me and, BOOM, everyone knew about it!

Funny how the tide has turned.

I was recently travelling by plane and had a stopover in Vancouver. When I arrived in the terminal, I had a few hours, so bought some lunch, some Roger’s Chocolates for the family and went to sit and read my current book.

Before I settled in, I thought to pull out my boarding pass and identification and have it ready. I found the boarding pass easily ~ I was using it as a bookmarker. But I couldn’t find my driver’s license anywhere. Not in my wallet, purse, pockets or suitcase. I retraced my steps and asked the merchants. Nothing. I approached customer service and explained my dilemma.

After checking in with a manager, it was determined I needed to file a police report. My file number would suffice as my identification, but I may have to have a member attend in person to verify it was me. So, I sat on hold for 20 minutes with the local RCMP detachment (Royal Canadian Mounted Police for my non-Canadian friends). An officer came on and I calmly explained my situation. Another officer would call me back, I was told. Don’t ignore calls labelled ‘Private Number’!

Forty-five minutes later, I was repeating my story to a Constable Lowry. Constable Lowry double checked all of my information and we even shared a couple of chuckles about my poor memory and absent-mindedness. He issued me a file number and assured me I only needed to show it to the gate attendant in order to board the plane for the final leg of my journey home.

He wouldn’t need to attend in person.

I thanked him and we hung up. I then opened my book and began to read. A short time later, a woman who looked to be in about her mid-70s sitting across the aisle from me leaned over and said something.

“Pardon me?” I said, closing my book.

“How did you just do that?” she asked. “How did you sit so calmly through that whole situation?”

I just smiled and shrugged.

“No. Seriously. I watched this whole thing unfold. Watched you looking. Heard your phone calls,” she said earnestly. “Not once did you get upset or angry or panicked or anything!”

In that moment, I reflected briefly on what had transpired so far, and I was able to share with her honestly: “I don’t see where anger or angst would have served me. Panicking definitely wouldn’t have helped, and it was no sense getting mad at anyone. None of that would have benefitted me; none of that would have made my identification suddenly appear. So, I remained calm because it’s what served me best. I was helped; I’m getting on my next flight. What’s to be angry or upset about?”

She shook her head in apparent awe. “Wow. That just amazes me,” she said, shaking her head slightly. “You’ve definitely given me something to ponder about!”

It made me ponder, too!

The FB post about being so very angry was just a few short years ago, but I’ve come miles in my growth and learning since then. I have learned – and made time and space - for healing in my life.

I understand that everything that triggers me is indicating where that healing needs to take place. I have allowed for more ease and grace, and radical acceptance, to help me reach that deep peace within.

It’s been a helluva journey, but one I’m very proud of.