Frustration

Frustration arises as I talk to you. Blood boiling, pulse racing, fingers trembling—all from you. You make me so mad sometimes. And I can’t even help it. I don’t want to get mad. I don’t want to get annoyed. I don’t want to get frustrated.  But you have a special way of making me feel that way sometimes. It’s like in some way you know the exact trigger to pull to take me from 0 to 60.

Right now, I’m at 60. I’m at my max. Not outwardly fuming, but inwardly boiling hot. I’m hot because I can’t count on you to make a decision about anything.

One day you make a decision. You say one thing; you tell me it’s definitely happening. Then the next day (literally), you saying something completely different and don’t bridge the gap between how we got from one “definitive” thing to another. 

It’s frustrating because with all these broken promises, I begin to get offended because I take it personally. I take it personally when you decide not to come visit me at the last minute. I take it personally when you say you’re going to call but end up with your friends. I take it personally when you make a plan for your life and forget to consult with me. I take it personally…

It is personal. You may not mean for it to be but it is. I, a person, am being taken for granted. So I, a person, am offended. And when I’m offended or get my feelings hurt, I express that in anger or frustration because those emotions are a little less “weak;” a little less vulnerable.

So yes, I’m frustrated. I’m angry. I annoyed. I’m mad. But, really, I’m hurt. I’m hurt that you can’t make decisions when it comes to me. I’m hurt that you prioritize other things over me. And I’m hurt that you don’t do what you tell me you’re going to do.

Frustration arose as I talked to you…masking the hurt I felt as more promises were broken…