I’ve seen it. I’ve done it. I’ve laughed about it. I’ve done it again. It’s just the way I am … and the way others are, too.
And I think it has to do with having ADHD. It fits perfectly.
We aren’t all the same. This may not apply to you. Because we all start out differently, and because we all have different sets of symptoms affecting us to different degrees, we can’t all be the same.
And about those differences …
I find it very interesting that, even though we are all different, we seem to still get each other, understand each other. Is empathy a trait we all share?
Or are all our brains wired similarly but our symptoms are manifestations of those differences, reactions to that unique but shared wiring? The reactions would be different because we are all different people and we were all raised differently. Worth some thought, I think.
But back to the rage
People do some stupid things out on the road. I know, I’ve seen them do it. I’ve seen them do it right in front of me.
Okay, I do some stupid things out there too, sometimes, but I always have a good reason … I think … er, wait a minute, we weren’t talking about my driving, stay on topic here, who’s writing this blog anyway?
So people do some stupid things when they’re driving, and they seem to wait until I’m around to do them.
And often times, they need my cooperation to do those things. They need me to slow down or go around them because they need the space I’m in or about to be in … they need me to be paying attention.
Well, that’s asking a lot of someone you don’t know, and it’s asking an awful lot of me.
And yet, I’m usually paying attention. I’m usually paying attention to the whole scene. I’m actually in my element behind the wheel.
I’m moving faster than people were designed to, and the scene around me is changing rapidly. It’s like watching television or playing a video game. I can’t not pay attention. The ever changing scenery and details are … well, distracting.
But again, back to the rage
So when someone does something stupid in front of, or beside, or behind me, I get enraged. I let fly with a string of expletives that would make my mother blush … and my mother could swear let me tell you. It is one of my dearest memories of her.
I speak directly to the fool who has executed some dangerous lane change or wrong turn or whatever folly they’ve recently performed on my watch and I say just exactly what I think of them.
… And then?
And then I forget about it. Why dwell? Those distracting details are just going to take my mind off of whatever they’d done anyway.
I should also note that, since I’m in my truck and they are in their vehicle, they don’t actually hear me being enraged. They don’t benefit from the education they might have gotten from me, poor dears.
I’ve been known all my life for not holding a grudge, not dwelling on anger. I may stop interacting with someone because they make me angry all the time, but I don’t live in anger. I’m too easily distracted from it I suppose.
And I think that’s a good thing, a lucky thing. I’m happy with my road rage. It lets me vent, and then it’s gone. Sweet!