Scream, cry or laugh

In the annuals of history, hell in my own personal history, this afternoon and evening doesn't even register as a spike.

But this is how I feel:

I am the peace keeper in my house. And I am the one who more often than not makes allowances for everyone else's quirks and listens to just how weird anything and everything I do, think, whatever is.

Today I hit tilt.

I've had a difficult time learning how to maintain healthy boundaries. I've had a hard time learning how to speak up for myself. I bite my tongue so often I'm surprised the whole thing isn't one giant calloused piece of scar tissue.

Because I don't want to be a jerk. I don't want to hurt people's feelings. I don't want to be an inconvenience. I don't want to be a nag.

How's that working for me?

Yeah, not well.

No one particular thing that contributed to setting me off will matter in six months, a year, 10 years. But my temper is not one easily put to rest once the tie downs snap and it roars to life. Not that I become violent (I'm afraid of hurting someone's feelings. I've never so much as slapped anybody.) and not that I scream obscenities until the huddled masses are quivering in cooling puddles of their own urine.

I seethe. I want to crawl out of my skin and shriek like a cacophony of harpies. I expect my brain to leak and steam to come out of my ears. I'm always surprised I haven't spontaneously combusted.