Everybody hates a “Crybaby.” Growing up those are the words you didn’t want to hear. Those were the ones who we used to mess with to make them cry. It made us feel good to accomplish such a feet. But no one can make me cry!
Even when I hurt I won’t shed a tear. I’m a man and men NEVER cry. I’m rough and tough and all that stuff! No one wants to be soft. I can’t quite remember when, as a young man, I went from crying to cussing and fussing when I got hurt but I do remember when I stopped holding in my anger.
I was 17 and my mom was having some marital problems with her second husband. He had left the home and would come to visit her when my sister and I weren’t home. One summer evening I was home when he arrived! He knocked on the door and asked to see my mom. I of course said “NO” (or something to that effect) and slammed the door in his face. Then I took off my glasses, placed them on the top of the piano, opened the door and followed him out into the hallway.
I remember standing nose to nose with him. I had heard about “seeing red” in movies and books but I didn’t know what it meant until then. I swear there was a red hue around his face. I can’t really remember what I said or how long we stood there, but I do remember him walking away and me about to throw a punch at him when my mom pulled me by the arm and told me to go back in the house, but I didn’t. She walked outside to talk to him and I followed!
He was sitting in his car and I spoke some choice words to him. Then he said, “Come and get me!” It was on!! One of my best friends was standing right next to me and heard the same thing I did and he knew it was trouble. He grabbed me and walk me to the end of the parking lot, but I wouldn’t be denied! I proceeded to literally drag my friend up the parking lot, on my back, screaming a profanity laced tirade that everyone within 3 blocks could hear. He was a minister and I called him everything but a child of God!
I was almost to him when my friend’s dad and a few others restrained me and put me in the backseat of their car. I was steaming, breathing hard, cussing and crying as I sat there. I remember him coming to the window on the opposite side and saying something. I let of a choice phrase and he left.
I had never been so mad in my life! And I carried the hurt, anger and pain from that night around with me for years. I didn’t know it at the time, but it was eating away at me. I had anger issues that I passed off as having a bad temper. I was a good young man, but sometimes that little angry boy would creep out and be very nasty.
Join us in a couple of days to hear the rest of Maurice’s story.