“When things don’t go your way, remember that setbacks are temporary opportunities for growth, strengthening your character, and redirection toward better possibilities.”
— Roy T. Bennett, The Light in the Heart

That quote popped into my head today as I read the police report I downloaded about my recent accident. I was fully expecting to see the words that every driver hopes to read: “The other guy did it.”

Instead, the report pretty much said… “Nice try.”

I was sure the fault would be placed on the other driver. The young man involved practically admitted it was his fault, and there was even a witness asking if I had just been hit by him.

Apparently, the police officer saw things a little differently.

My first thought was to grab the nearest object and throw it across the room. But then reality set in. The problem with throwing things is that eventually you have to go pick them up again. That’s a lot of effort just to prove you’re mad.

As I’ve gotten older, I’ve learned to control my anger. That was not always the case.

Back in my younger days, if I got mad, there wasn’t an object within arm’s reach that was safe. Books, pencils, notebooks—if it wasn’t nailed down, it was at risk of becoming an airborne projectile.

And the yelling… oh boy.

If you needed to find me in school, you didn’t need a map. You just followed the sound of someone yelling loud enough to be heard three blocks away.

My classmates often thought it was hilarious that they could get me mad so easily. Some of them would poke the bear on purpose just to watch the show. Looking back, I realize they were basically getting free entertainment.

One particular morning in high school still sticks in my mind.

We had a new student starting that day. From the moment I saw him, I had a feeling we probably weren’t going to be best friends.

As was tradition, we all introduced ourselves. His name was Curtis.

Now this was seventh grade—a time when hormones were just starting to wake up, and teenagers thought they were tougher than they actually were. Curtis apparently wanted to make a name for himself, and for reasons I still don’t understand, he chose me as his audition.

Later that day, during P.E., we were playing dodgeball. Curtis grabbed the ball and launched it straight at me, hitting me square in the face. It was a solid hit too—bloodied my nose pretty good.

As I got up off the floor, I looked over at him. Curtis was smiling from ear to ear and asked if I wanted some more.

Now here’s where things get a little fuzzy.

I honestly don’t remember much after that.

What I was told later was that I picked up the ball and threw what witnesses described as a cannon shot directly at Curtis’s face. The ball hit him square in the nose and dropped him like a sack of potatoes.

Curtis didn’t get up.

He just lay there.

What I do remember is standing over him when he finally woke up. Blood was slowly making its way across the gym floor, and he looked up at me and said the most unexpected thing:

“What an arm.”

I helped him up, and moments later, we were escorted to the principal’s office, where we received matching three-day suspensions for fighting.

The funny part is that Curtis and I actually became good friends after that and stayed friends all the way through graduation.

But unfortunately, that wasn’t the end of my temper. There were more fights and more suspension slips over the years.

It wasn’t until I got married and had a son that I realized something had to change. I didn’t want my son growing up thinking throwing things and yelling at the top of your lungs was a normal way to handle problems.

Learning to control my anger wasn’t easy. I tried several different approaches—from therapists to self-management techniques. In reality, it wasn’t just one thing that worked. It was a combination of several things over time.

Finding my “happy place” turned out to be one of the biggest keys.

These days, I consider myself a much calmer person. I no longer throw objects across the room. I might still mutter a few colorful comments under my breath, but at least the neighbors can’t hear me anymore.

So when I read that police report today, I just sat there for a moment.

Years ago, something in my house would probably have been airborne by now.

Instead, I just took a deep breath and reminded myself that setbacks happen.

Monday, I’ll call the police officer listed on the report and politely ask why he determined the accident was my fault when the other driver claimed responsibility. There was even a witness who said the same thing, although unfortunately, I don’t have their contact information.

Without evidence, that statement probably wouldn’t hold up in court.

Still, I guess that quote is right.

Sometimes life throws you setbacks.

The important thing is learning not to throw things back.