I'm not at my best in hot weather. This is what I've been telling myself for the last 48 hours, to offer some explanation as to why, at 8 a.m. on Tuesday morning while riding a crowded blue line train, I grew so frustrated at a conversation (about our upcoming vacation, no less) that I said some hurtful things to Cliff. Things, of course, that I didn't really mean.
We've all been there - watched the words stumble out of our mouths even as we wished we had the willpower to haul them back in. Watched the person we love most in the world flinch as the words make direct contact.
Of course it takes a few minutes (or hours) before you really regret what you've said. At first it almost feels good to suddenly have the upper hand in the conversation. Then, eventually, you realize that the upper hand does not mean the upper road: you've stepped over the line, and you can't take those words back. They're out there.
Marriage is full of these exchanges - I'm reading one marriage book that claims you can eliminate all negativity, but I don't buy it. I think what's more important is that you don't pretend the words haven't been said. Unchecked, they can accumulate until they become extra baggage in any fight, regardless of topic. Maybe there are some people that can live at peace with that baggage, but I'm not one of them.
I've apologized a half dozen times since then, and Cliff has graciously extended his forgiveness. Two days later, I can't even fully recall why I was feeling so on edge, so threatened. What I do feel is humbled by the reminder that emotions can so easily get the best of me. And committed, once again, to taking the upper road.
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