Pop

I'm getting tired of the trying weeks. This one being no different, with discovery of a new oil leak (this one directly next to the furnace) combined with discovering severe dry rot on some of the supports holding up the floor by the front door, Grey and I picking at one another over being insanely stressed (see above) and then fighting with family. Specifically two separate incidents where Grey handled the situation extremely well (didn't engage and ended the conversation early), but where I performed the ultimate in belly-flops in going off on my Father-in-law.

That last one is definitely making me officially public enemy number one with his family. And honestly I understand where they all would be coming from, given that follow-up conversation resulted in Grey calling off a much desired visit from his parents who we haven't seen in over 2 years.

The problem is, I do blame them. I blame my family too. Just as I blame my landlord for renting out a unit that is considered uninhabitable, leaving us to figure out how to navigate through this entire mess. Just as I blame employers who have treated both Grey and me terribly. So on and so on.

The truth is, I know going off doesn't help anything. If nothing else, it only adds to the problem, burning bridges along the way. But I'm also tired of making nice for those who refuse to change. Who hide behind myths of moral superiority or some given wisdom, making decisions that impact all around them but doing so in a manner that only benefits them. I'm tired of coming off what should have been a holiday, but was instead a day of strategizing how to navigate more bad news that stands to hurt all of us.

So, I popped. Big time. Definitely hurting Grey in the process. And though I am sorry I hurt him, burning a bridge he had been growing for awhile now, I'm also at a point where I feel relieved about no longer stuffing all the hurt and anger.

Even though I know tomorrow is going to be a new adventure in "trying."