I don't do turmoil well. In times of emotional upheaval, I often pretend to be deaf, blind and stupid. It's easy. I sometimes think the world would be a more placid planet if more people tried it.
Okay, it's not easy. But I have my ways of pacifying the Boss when he's in one of his states. He's ten years older than I am and independently wealthy. His family made a fortune in pottery, and he lives off the interest from his father's trust. He doesn't need the aggravation of being the president of a construction company. Or does he?
I think he thrives on aggravation. It's mother's milk to him. Life's blood. It occurred to me today that he's kept me around for more than seventeen years because I don't respond emotionally when he has his moods. I listen calmly and I speak calmly. I try to find a logical approach to whatever monster he's found under his bed. Sometimes I even make him laugh.
And then, when I get off the phone, I slam things around and roar in frustration. But it's not turmoil, because I'm the only person involved. It's a reaction and a release, but it doesn't do anything to make things worse. Nobody knows the trouble I've seen. It stays in-house, and (as I think I've mentioned) I live alone.
So today was a rough day for the Boss. That made it a rough day for me, but he'll never know. All he knows is that I answered his questions, walked him through what he didn't understand, and left him feeling a little lighter than he was before. If I can shift some of the burden onto my shoulders, it's worth it to keep it all from crashing down around us. I can handle that much easier than I can stand to be in the middle of the storm with nothing to hold onto.