I had a bad temper as a kid. Teen. Okay, yesterday. I have learned to manage it and have recognized that it’s a lack of communicating my feelings and keeping everything inside until I blow my lid like a famous fuzzy blue monster named Sully – er kitty.
Saying fvck a lot lately is helping.
Teen hockey me was definitely the peek of a whole lot of emotional what the fvcks. I have three teenaged daughters so I know the roller coster ride is real, but my anger was certainly next level.
Three outbursts stand out in the flash of my youth. Well, there is more but attaching myself to a fence with a faceful of tears is kind of cute. I mean I loved my teacher.
The denoument of my childhood anger however, had to be at a hockey tournament in Buffalo where an assistant coach met my wrath after commenting on one too many penalties from number 5 that afternoon. It was a very rare moment for me at the arena because I loved and respected all of my coaches. While I did take my anger out on the opposing team a few too many times, I never disrespected my coaches – until I did and what came out in a fit of rage was next level Ralphie Parker.
‘Fvck you!, sir.’.
There was a noticeable pause after the fvck you as I immediately realized how gross I sounded, and all I could think of to save this moment, was an attempt at following up with a sincere, ‘sir’.
I will always regret that moment. The explecitives – not the sir.
Thankfully my coaches didn’t have any bars of soap in their kits although by this point, I was likely accustomed to the zesty taste of a fresh bar of Camay.