The no good, very bad day.
Hell of a day. Just hell of a day.
Everything that could go wrong did. And it was raining, ALL day. Which I love. When I'm in it by choice, or for a quick streak, or best of all when I'm curled up with something/one warm and staring at it out the window.
I'm not proud to say that I struggled to hold onto my civility with every inch today. But I did. Even despite the FNG dogging me around and the nearly deaf husband pestering me for explanations every 5 minutes.
As I stumbled out of their house, 12 hours after I got there, apologizing profusely for bothering them all day, the wife calmly interjected that I'd been a sweetheart the whole time.
I don't know how. Really.
She missed a lot of quiet "fuckshitgoddamns" into my shoulder as I crawled, climbed, and stared blinking at yet another weird readout. But I kept it together.
And considering everything else in my mind, today should've snapped me. I was occasionally brusque with the FNG, but never nasty. Sad, tired, sore, wet, frustrated, and feeling about a mile back on the idiot train...and nobody else had to take the brunt of it.
I am, for obvious reasons, still not happy with how I cope with life, stress, and disappointment.
But this popped up on FB today:
And ten years ago, that kid would've lost his shit on all and sundry at half as much bullshit. Also, amusingly, with barely any of the actual pain to fuel his outbursts. Before Dad, Nikki, school, and a thousand other smaller wounds.
So I guess my point is that while I'm definitely not the man I want to be, yet. I do feel growth. I can see progress.
And that feeds hope.
And I need that, cause it's my thing.
My reason.
And that is something I can take pride in.
Everything that could go wrong did. And it was raining, ALL day. Which I love. When I'm in it by choice, or for a quick streak, or best of all when I'm curled up with something/one warm and staring at it out the window.
I'm not proud to say that I struggled to hold onto my civility with every inch today. But I did. Even despite the FNG dogging me around and the nearly deaf husband pestering me for explanations every 5 minutes.
As I stumbled out of their house, 12 hours after I got there, apologizing profusely for bothering them all day, the wife calmly interjected that I'd been a sweetheart the whole time.
I don't know how. Really.
She missed a lot of quiet "fuckshitgoddamns" into my shoulder as I crawled, climbed, and stared blinking at yet another weird readout. But I kept it together.
And considering everything else in my mind, today should've snapped me. I was occasionally brusque with the FNG, but never nasty. Sad, tired, sore, wet, frustrated, and feeling about a mile back on the idiot train...and nobody else had to take the brunt of it.
I am, for obvious reasons, still not happy with how I cope with life, stress, and disappointment.
But this popped up on FB today:
And ten years ago, that kid would've lost his shit on all and sundry at half as much bullshit. Also, amusingly, with barely any of the actual pain to fuel his outbursts. Before Dad, Nikki, school, and a thousand other smaller wounds.
So I guess my point is that while I'm definitely not the man I want to be, yet. I do feel growth. I can see progress.
And that feeds hope.
And I need that, cause it's my thing.
My reason.
And that is something I can take pride in.