I know the title of this blog post will lead most people to think it is about either A) something sexual, B) something action-packed, or C) a pine needle and wrapping paper epicenter in my living room. ‘Twas none of the above, unfortunately.
Instead, it was me, completely losing my cool with my ex-wife (my son’s mom), days before Christmas, over something that was actually pretty craptastic, but also nowhere near worth losing one’s cool the way I did.
I don’t mean that I lost my cool the way one does when a cable customer service-person tells you that their mistake will cost you three hundred bucks. I mean that I really lost it. Something triggered, and I texted her a barrage of marvelously arranged f-bombs mixed with hyperbolic statements of perceived selfishness and injustice. No excuses. No beating around the bush. That’s what I did.
If a 340 lb. prison inmate with murder-tears tattooed on his face was somehow mixed with a foot-stamping toddler, my texting tirade would have been the Frankensteinish-result that came goobling out of the experiment.
It was ugly.
Now, I’m generally a pretty class act.
I’m generally a pretty decent fellow.
I generally will help the old lady get whatever she needs from the top shelf of the baking aisle. Or I’ll shovel my neighbors’ walks. Or I’ll go out of my way to be nice to people.
I generally keep my cool when situations escalate.
I generally am level-headed.
It generally takes a lot to set me off. I consider myself a pretty dang decent communicator and I find myself constantly motivated to steer clear of drama whenever possible.
I generally would have simply told her that I was upset about her actions and then I would have done nothing about it because, when you’re co-parents, sometimes there’s nothing you can do about certain situations.
But this time, something triggered. Something snapped. It was just one of those “last straw” one-last-spit-in-the-face moments that shattered the camel’s back, and I unleashed the Kraken on her.
Do I feel guilty for it?
No, not really.
I also don’t feel proud of it.
Am I sorry?
No. Heavens no. Not yet, at least. Maybe someday I will be.
I also don’t feel belligerent about it.
Have I even been laughing about it somewhat?
Yeah. If I’m being honest.
Has she been laughing?
Do I wish I had handled it differently?
Yeah, probably… Well, maybe… Hm. Actually, I’m not sure I do at all.
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