Seeing Red – Fist Fights at 60?

My friends gave me a T-shirt with “Page County Don’t Back Down” emblazoned across the chest after I stood up to five people threatening to shoot us. We had decided to go for a hike one beautiful Autumn Day and as we parked at the trailhead in the George Washington National Forest, there were a few pickup trucks already there. As we were throwing on our backpacks, a woman, two men, a young boy and an old man, all wearing camouflage, appeared from the woods, holding semi-automatic weapons.

“You can’t use this trail. We were here first and we’re doing target practice,” the woman said menacingly.

“Well, this is a national forest and a public use trail…,” began my logical friend, Lynne. She was cut off as the woman, gesturing now with her gun, told us we would get shot if we used the trail. Presumably by them.

Some more words were exchanged and more threats of shooting us until I saw red. I really did see red.

Seeing Red

Seeing red is an extreme emotional response that takes over your rational thinking mind. It is an expression thought to have originated from the physical signs of anger, such as a red face and neck, which are caused by increased blood flow and elevated blood pressure. Seeing red is part of the flight/fight response that originates in the amygdala.

I did what every rational person would not do, I strode towards this woman and got in her face with every intention of fighting her. Initially, she stood her ground but as the distance closed between us, the wise old man realized I was crazier than her, and said, “Ok now, we’ll let you pass.” I stopped and watched her. She lowered her gun, and her shoulders dropped.

My sensitive friend, Hilary, was starting to weep, and I could hear Lynne whisper to me, “Before Hilary has a breakdown, let’s go to the other trailhead.” As my breathing slowed and my fists unclenched, I knew this was the best course of action, for everyone, including myself.

To Be or Not to Be RED

Hamlet was not sure if he wanted to turn his sword inward towards himself or outward to the wrongs that were transpiring in his world. I have lived on both ends of that sword. For longer than I care to remember, the confident woman of my 20s and 30s was replaced by a woman who took every sling and arrow the world hurled at her and turned the sword inward until I was so full of self-doubt, and feelings of worthlessness that I felt I was responsible for global warming and worthy of every criticism and accusation.

“You’re right, I am sure I am somehow wrong, to blame, and it is all my fault” was my mantra. A man who was instrumental to my healing and journey of self-love reminded me often, daily, to stop apologizing for breathing.

Two Wrongs Don’t Make a Right

It takes a lot of mental and emotional work to put down the sword – ask Gandhi, MLK and Thoreau. To stand in neutrality and calm and not cut off someone’s head, or your own, especially when confronted with some type of danger, takes more courage than picking up the sword.

Recently, at work, my supervisor, whose insecurity manifests as strict rule following with no discretion, sent me an email, with bullets, about some perceived ineffectiveness based on one student’s feedback and inaccurate data.

I saw red.

My world was cloaked in crimson for hours as I mounted the counter defense, with accurate data, which, I knew, would confirm my boss was so very wrong. Thankfully, Hilary texted me and told me to send her the email before I fired it off. I realized this was prudent and did as asked. As my adrenaline wore off, I then became completely demoralized and drained. I turned the sword inward.

Enlightenment – HA!

The next morning, after I meditated, and drank some really good French roast, it occurred to me that I had got angry because I finally had reclaimed some courage, self-efficacy and confidence in myself again, and I was not going to just take anyone’s slings and arrows as I backed up on my knees. No mea culpas.

This, based on a lot of therapy and good friends, was healthy-ish. I remembered my confidence at work in my 20s, when I stared (and shouted down) another insecure and not well meaning boss, and I was steadily promoted because I was good and better at my job than him. (I was in private industry and not academia where it seems mediocrity rises to the top.)

So, while I was proud of myself about picking up my sword and saying, “Hell to the no!” I also realized that at 61 my self-confidence and agency was back! But it was not the way forward. And while I did not tolerate the bullies at the national forest trailhead, the bullies were carrying guns. Where was the middle ground of cowering vs charging into battle?

As I pondered reclaiming confidence, which was a good thing, and the extreme of apologizing for breathing, I wondered if I could enter a time machine. Could I keep moving backwards? Backwards through time? Way past my 20s? To childhood? To when I was an essence of light in the divine’s eye, a more perfect and beautiful soul?

I am rewriting the email and striving for the middle ground.

Let’s Have a Conversation:

What makes you see red? When do you feel it is o.k. and healthy to stand up for yourself? Has your anger caused any regrets? Or has it helped reclaim your power?