I’ve come to the realization (again) that I’m not as evolved as I thought.
I do display remarkable equanimity in most situations: I can wait patiently in a doctor’s office, even when they are really late. Getting cut off in traffic leaves me undisturbed.
But the thing that immediately reverts me to cave woman status is…. opening packages. I start out with the best of intentions, I really do. I read the directions (usually); I look for the right way to open something (most of the time), and I attempt to follow the instructions (when I’ve bothered to read them). But once any hint of resistance from the package is detected, all conscious thought escapes and I am left with one primal need:
Must Open This Package. Now.
Damn the torpedoes! Ramming speed! Cap’n, she’s gonna blow!
Once a piece of packaging gives me the first bit of difficulty, it is dead to me. I take no prisoners. Box tops are ripped off. Bags are ripped open with such ferocity that they usually split right in two, spilling the contents all over. (Dog is always pleased when this happens.) If I need tools, I use tools. God help us all if it’s a package sealed in plastic.
I used to think it was just a temperament thing. You know, me just being impulsive and heedless, yadda yadda, while Himself was just more fastidious in his package-opening methods. It was Himself who suggested that there might, just MIGHT be something a little more visceral to it than that, and I think he’s right.
For him, it’s locking himself out of something/somewhere. Getting locked out immediately turns him into the Incredible Hulk, unthinking and with one goal: to gain entrance.
Which, now that I think about it, is remarkably similar to my little quirk, just on a grander scale.