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When I was a kid, the world of self-esteem and “constructive criticism” wasn’t even in the embryonic stage. There was no concern for being “politically correct,” folks just loaded the gun with whatever awful thing was on their minds and pulled the trigger. Being the target of many such double-barreled comments, I was taught the hard way how to stand my ground and take the verbal blast like a champ.

As I grew up, my tongue caught up with my earlobes. By the age of 10, I was a “tongue terrorist:” I didn’t fight with my fists. My weapon of choice was my mouth. Once, I made my older brother so angry that he broke his hand on the back of my skull. How did I accomplish such a brag-worthy feat? I spoke to him.

Luckily, I was engrossed in a highly-pixelated game of “Pitfall” on my Atari 2600, protected by some unknown force-field that resulted in my brother’s hospital trip and in my riotous and vindictive laughter. I was unscathed. My older brother had broken his own bones because of the force of my words. My kung fu was stronger than his. Still is.

Once I discovered the destructive capacity of my intangible, ethereal “bullets,” I honed my skill – just ask my wife and kids. What’s been difficult to learn is to lay down my weapon and use it for good. Sure, I can still render grown men and women (and their not-so-grown varieties) spontaneously burst into flames or tears. The challenge is to use this force for the Jedi and not the Sith; for Yoda and not for Vader.

While this was a bit of a light-hearted look at the subject of sarcasm, it truly put a stop to my bullet train when I was told that sarcasm was low-level anger.

Say what?

Read that again: sarcasm is low-level anger. I have always struggled with anger issues (could’ve been a rock star!). When I heard that and asked myself the hard question – Am I really just a constantly angry person? – I knew then I had to stop.

Look, I’m still a riotously funny guy. I could’ve been a stand-up comedian, in fact. But that doesn’t let me off the hook when the only one in the room laughing is me. It’s even less funny when my kids leave the room crying, all because I’m working for Vader and not Yoda, laughing my way into solitude.

Sarcasm is as destructive as cancer, but with fewer treatment options. Ask yourself if you may be hurting the ones you love most, and decide if it’s really worth a few moments of scathing glory.

 

Article Source:http://www.articlesbase.com/self-help-articles/confessions-of-a-sarcastic-kid-a-look-at-the-power-of-sarcasm-1543932.html

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