“That Tope is a stupid guy!”
Jokes are all about context. I can imagine the above statement being part of a hilarious situation, in some context. But in this specific incident, it was anything but. It filled the banking hall with much discomfort.
“I say that guy is a useless person! Oh my God.”
All this was coming from a man in the corner who was on the phone. Interestingly, phone calls aren’t allowed in the bank but nobody would dare stand up to him. What could this Tope have done to him to deserve this extent of vitriol?
One thing was clear. No matter what Tope had done, this man was a monster.
And another situation.
Typically, I enjoy English classes and anything that has to do with the language. Everyone knew this. What they couldn’t understand is why I had left class. It was because of the teacher. He was so unkind. A terrible bully. When he was done, he marched out of the class and left his colleague — a lovely middle-aged lady — to pack up and run after him.
We couldn’t understand this. I was personally horrified, and scared. How did this man miss every opportunity in his life to grow up and be a decent human being? He had made reference to his wife. He had a wife? How would someone like this get married? What must she be going through?
I’ve always been told that I’m a difficult person. Also, that I’m smart, charming, and that “If people knew what you are really like, they would like you.” But what if I was really like the English tutor? What if his wife also saw the good in him? Did I want to be a jerk with no insight? It made me decide to change for the better.
Fast forward three years later. I am in another country, with a roommate. Having a roommate as an adult is common in the western world. What I did not bargain for is this roommate bringing in guests by 12:00am who would smoke weed, leave it all over the living room, and play video games loudly till dawn. This vexed me to the nth degree.
I would narrate my horror to my girlfriend, and she would always advise me to calm down. Calm down? I didn’t think she understood how distraught I felt. Calm down? Nah, you don’t get it. Story after story of how my roommate had topped his last act, and she would always tell me I was too angry and I should lighten up. And I would be more angry because I felt I was being made the problematic one instead of my (mad) roommate.
She once said “I’m afraid that you’ll talk to me this way someday. It’s because I haven’t gotten you angry enough.” I assured her that I could never talk to her that way, and that I was only that angry because my roommate was a complete dbjksahoafkjsbfkasjdfas. But in my heart, I knew what she said had merit. I did not think I could ever be so mean to her, but I also knew that I am not two people, but one. If you can do something to A, under the right circumstances, you would do it to B.
Now, I think about it. Was I talking about my roommate the same way the guy at the bank was talking about Tope? I hate to admit it, but I know it must be true.
That oversensitivity — the ability to get angry over everything, and anything, to a such a deep level that I am screeching and cussing — was eventually what cost me that relationship. I recognized the problem and I was always trying to do better, but the relationship was stressed by other unrelated events. Given one last outburst, that was it. The camel’s back was broken.
It forced me contemplate my entire life. It led me to really appreciate that I am a sinner who is fit only to be crucified. I’m learning to recognize the raging bull in myself. The solution is not to tame it. It is to let that man die altogether, and live a new life. This is the gospel of Jesus Christ, and I hold on gingerly to that hope of transformation, to that testimony. I do not want to be a man screaming in the bank someday in full view of the public. Or bullying a class of young adults. Or the man crying about how ridiculous his roommate is. I need change. Recognizing the problem is the first step.
My girlfriend knew my heart. She knew I was trying to change. She did not give up on me because I was hopeless. She gave up because at the time I had my last episode, she was already on E. She had no strength to continue. The lesson for me in that relationship was not to be perfect all at once — because that’s not possible. It was to have started slow. If you start a marathon at full speed, you’ll be weary before the end of the first lap. Any relationship is a marathon — you must start slow.
