Frustration for me is the accumulation and realization that I am cheap and lazy. It is this manifestation combined with the results of this lack of attention to the needs of what I am trying to do that pushes me over the edge. But that alone is not enough for me to lash out. I can usually keep my frustration under wraps. Today I tried to tele ski with old crusty gear and inadequate skills.
It all comes busting out when while dealing with my own shortcomings and the results of which start piling up. For instance watching my adventure partner climb the hill and disappear while I struggle helplessly with crappy skins on my skis that do not provide the necessary foot hold.
I slid back one more time and struggled to go again. A couple steps later I slid all the way back to where I began. So I used my poles and weasely arms to pull myself up the mountain. I was cranky and started mumbling some “feeling sorry for myself” terms under my breath. Still I looked like I was having a good time. And under a certain layer I was.
Dealing with all this and the certain end to my upper body strength I just kept on struggling. And now I figure I will catch up … eventually. Then the last straw … ah, the last twig … snaps.
A branch. A fucking branch that looked like a crusty old arm stuck out and grabbed at my coat. It felt like this old tree was trying to pull me back. I pulled my arm away angrily and lost my balance. I got up busting with anger. That branch would not get away with this.
I swung my pole at it and it bounced back vibrating wildly and smacked me squarely on the shoulder.
The gloves were off, “You Ass%$#@ F#$%!er”, I shouted and pushed the branch downward trying to bust the tree’s menacing dead arm. I pushed with all my might but the branch held firm. I was sure it would break. Kerwack!!!
The branch broke loose from my pole basket and cracked against my forearm with such force it knocked my gloves off and put me back into the snow. My arm shot with pain and a tingling sensation of a nerve gone wild. I was sure it broke my arm.
“You son of a F#$%!ing B^%$&. F#$%!ing F#$%!ity F#$%!er”, I shouted angrily at the inanimate object.
Around 3 minutes of consistent cussing at the top of my lungs later I realize that I was going to be ok. I look over at the tree for a third round of name calling and I hear a soft voice just above me.
“Are you ok?”
Just then I realized what a fool I made of myself and the blood rushed to my head as I hung my head in defeat.
“Yea, this god damn tree smacked my wrist …”, I caught myself from going any further. The tree had won and it brought out of me the side that is not good. It freaked onlookers out and made me seem completely wacko.
Later on I mumbled, “I just don’t get along with trees”.