I think that I've come a long way.
My friend, Cesca's father passed away this week. She has every right to flip out. She was a thirteen hour plane ride away when it happened, and needed to get back home. During travel arrangements things got sticky a couple of times. She told me later that she "flipped out like you before the therapy."
That's pretty sad. I can say that at least I've figured out some of that. My anger and short fuse were the demise of my relationship. And probably the biggest obstacle I've faced throughout my whole life. I've been the thing that's held me back and made me unhappy....and miserable in the past.
After Lee and I broke up, I immediately started seeing a therapist. The trigger? Lee told me that he couldn't bring kids into the hostile environment that I created. To hear that, so clearly, so directly, from the man I thought I was going to marry... well, that shook me hard. That made me snap the fuck out of my pitiful being.
There's not a day that goes by that I don't blame myself for losing that. But, I also feel that I spent twenty six years throwing tantrums. And that I sorta deserved to be punished for my actions. I'm still being punished.
I look at everything differently. It's like a switch went off in my head as I pulled out of his parking lot with my car filled to the brim with three years worth of stuff left behind. With my bike strapped to the trunk. With my towels and tooth brush and pajamas and shoes and laundry and movies and books and life. I knew instantly that I had to change. And I have.
I can't get angry over stupid menial things any more. In fact, it's funny, I can't say I've really been angry at all since the break up. That's strange for me to say since I spent nearly every day of my life prior to that awful day in August, yelling and stomping about something.
God. If only I had been smart enough to fix myself before losing him.
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