I am often ashamed of my impatience and irritability. I work very hard to hide them around people but they’re there. I am thinking about this because…I am the only person living at my house now. There is nobody commenting on me, nobody “giving vibes” about who I am, how I do things, what I do. It’s a relief, but being alone doesn’t get rid of that shameful feeling, that dislike of those parts of myself. I still don’t like them…being alone sometimes makes them more obvious. If you’re alone and irritable, there’s nobody to attribute the dysfunction to, right? Except yourself.
I’m resigned to owning it, I have no problem with that.
Here’s another douchey aspect of myself to own though and it pains me: bluntness. Oh I don’t mean upfront-ness…which has nothing but benefits. I mean delivering information that other people might find hurtful, or at least a bit tenderness inducing with such unadorned straightforwardness that people just think you’re a total douchebag.
It often takes me a long time to make up my mind, but once I do, I’m done. I’m all set. I’m not negotiating. All. Done. So to illustrate just exactly why I am a turd: just broke up with the boyfriend. This had been about two years in the making. So for two years certain aspects of our relationship had been eating at me…I hadn’t been thinking “we gotta break up” for that long, just that certain things were really grinding on me in a draining way. So here I am two years later and the straw breaks the camel’s back, and boom, my mind is made up, we break up.
It took three weeks or so for him to find a new place and get moved out. which was HELL for me, because it takes so much energy to maintain “boundaries” with someone after a breakup and when you’re in the same house…it was gnawing on my soul. This past weekend was the “big” move day. I had already requested that this not be a dramatic good bye day, and made it clear that I was not going to participate in anything of the sort. So he packed and his friend helped him move the last of his stuff. I slept in, having gotten very little sleep the entire week previous. As he was leaving I was emerging from my room, looking enormously stylish in my mismatched pajamas, day old makeup, and hair askew. His friend commented on my stylishness and I remarked “now you see why he’s moving out”. I guess I thought that was funny. They both kind of just glared at me…because of course I’m the one that asked HIM to move out…so I guess that was kind of a dick thing to say, and I’m not lying when I say that I had no idea how jackassy that comment would be until they were both staring at me.
I don’t deal well with the things life throws my way when I’ve been pushed past my limit…and I was three weeks past my limit.