The smoke alarm is going off upstairs, but I just don’t give a damn. There’s no need to worry. It’s just the batteries. They’re dead.
Besides, the chocolate-covered marshmallows are soothing the anger radiating throughout my body as I sit in my big chair, seething and cursing. I think I’ll chase it down with a beer. On second thought, maybe not…
I could blame my pissy mood on PMS… or on the ants I found in my kitchen… or the bills… or The Donald (Someone please tell him to shut up!).
Instead, I’ll be honest and place the blame squarely on the shoulders of the guilty parties: Me and my ex.
Pass the chocolate-covered marshmallows, please…
My ex is to blame because, after weeks of the silent treatment (It was so nice while it lasted!), he decided to finally have a conversation, albeit a one-sided conversation where he does all the talking/yelling. When I finally get a chance to call him on his bullshit or verbally defend myself against his accusations, he hangs up. It’s his M.O. Then I’m left fuming on the other end of the phone with my words hanging in the air.
But let’s be fair. I’m also to blame. After weeks of meditation and counseling, I let him suck me in. And it wasn’t worth it. It never is! Not satisfied that I didn’t get in a few licks, I called him back, but he didn’t answer and I didn’t leave a message. Oh, how I wanted to leave a message. But that’s called evidence nowadays.
One second while I pour Hershey’s syrup over these bad boys...
As I was saying… I allowed him to take me to that cold, dark place. You know the place. It's where your thoughts turn just as dark as the room. That's where you play back old episodes of CSI and Law & Order in your head, then ask yourself, “Did they ever get caught?”
Kidding! (Nervous laugh) Sort of…
I used to silently shrivel up like an old piece of fruit and just take his abuse. Now, I instantly turn into a steel-eyed shark circling the waters for blood, looking to take out a limb or two. And when I’m denied a taste of blood… Well, I reach for the chocolate-covered marshmallows.
Wait, I’m out of those… Hello, Rocky Road!
It is sooooo hard not to get sucked in. Who wants to take it from a bully? My ex and I mostly just text now and I try really hard not to be snippy, but sometimes I just can't help myself.
ReplyDeleteOh girl... hang in there. High road, remember?!? And no, not Rocky Road! ;)
ReplyDeleteTake care of you.
Saying prayers and sending big hugs your way.
I remember those yelling matches and the anger that seethes inside of you when you can't call him back. Yet over time, it has mellowed, and now they almost never happen. Good luck!
ReplyDeleteI love your cure.
ReplyDeleteChocolate, ice-cream... when it's really bad for me, I take the whole lot of sweets into the bathroom with me and run a bubble bath. A decadent wallow in warm bubbly water makes everything better. At least for about 20 minutes.
I hear you honey!
I try hard to keep it to email and text messages, because I can just walk away from my BB or laptop to cool off. On the phone? Grrrrrrr! I need to get better at this...
ReplyDeleteI'm sooooooooo regretting the chocolate. My face broke out and now I look like a pimple-faced teenager. Need to step away from the Rocky Road and get back to yoga. And take a nice, long bubble bath!
*I will not eat the chocolate*
*I will not eat the chocolate*
*I will not eat the chocolate*
I am laughing in an, "I hear ya sister" kinda way.
ReplyDeleteI have found that video games that promote killing zombies work well as a ventilation system for those times when the ex has me all worked up.
(*whispering* forget law & order, and CSI, watch 48 hours.. better tips)
Note to self: Buy zombie video game and watch 48 hours.
ReplyDeleteGot it. Thanks! ;)
Damn. I need me some of these marshmallows.
ReplyDeleteButterfingers work well, too. Especially when crumbled over mocha almond fudge ice cream and drizzled with chocolate.
Just sayin'...
i thought a person couldn't use recordings in court in general...?
ReplyDeleteanyway, i know that feeling too. i hate it. you're not alone.