Mountains and Mole Hills

The apartment furniture is still pushed to one side of our apartment while we wait (and wait.  and then wait some more) for property management to get someone – anyone – from pest control in to look at the termites that may still be chewing their way through the wood that holds up our living quarters.  The are dragging their feet, I suppose, is the most polite way to put it. How I put it, however is: they fucking suck and I can’t believe it’s taking them so goddamn long to have someone look at this – to take a fucking course of action other than sitting in their offices and hoping that we’ll just let it go.

So far I have stayed out of it because I inherited my mother’s anger issues (which made it easy for me to back into a tow hitch).  When I get mad I don’t see things rationally or calmly .  I can’t take the catch-more-bees-with-honey route.  I like stern talkings-to that may or may not end in yelling, depending how the conversation is going.  Wes likes to say that it’s my Latino heritage – the only thing other than a like of spicy foods that could be considered Latin in me.  I think it’s because I grew up with a mother who would routinely berate clerks at clothing stores for not being able to return items, per their return policy.  I try and temper it as much as I can,  and it usually only comes out when I’m very mad at something that deserves my anger (like our property management).

What it all means though is that I usually take a back seat when issues like this arise because, really, no one likes how I act – least of all me.  I try to step back and take a breath when I’m mad at something/someone because I know that in a day’s time I won’t be as upset and it’s not the end of the world.  I have also enlisted Wes to tell me when I’m acting like a huge bitch.  I don’t want to grow up getting mad over tiny things and taking it out on the people closest to me.  I don’t want to be a person who takes offense at little insignificant things, ruining my day and whoever happens to be around me.  I don’t want to be pouting at a party when I should be having fun.  Basically, I want to enjoy my life and stop worrying about all the little things that are going wrong because there’s always something that goes wrong and if I do that I’m going to grow old alone because no one wants to be around that person (seriously, look at my grandma).

Wow, so this started out as a rant on the state of our apartment and went in a completely different direction.  Let’s go with it.

I read an e-mail exchange a couple of weeks ago and I was appalled at how rude and insensitive I was acting.  But mostly I was amazed at how angry I was.  I shouldn’t be, of course.  I should know by now that I do have the capacity to get angry and to write people out of my life for not living up to whatever standards I have arbitrarily put out there.  But I feel like I have come a long way in the past four or five years to not make mountains out of mole hills.  I’ve become a lot more comfortable in who I am and who my friends are.  And I understand that life isn’t always about me and how I feel and what I want (no matter how awesome that would be).

I think Wes has been a big part of what has changed me.  Sharing your life with someone makes it impossible to be the center of attention.  My college friends and I were all so selfish.  We didn’t really care about each other as anything other than a prop in our lives.  Having someone who think you’re just as important as you think they are is something completely different.  It sounds disgusting, but Wes makes me a better person.  Suddenly I see myself through his eyes and my anger and despair over the small stuff is just not attractive.  Watching him do so many selfless things prompts me to be a nicer person for no other reason than it’s the right thing to do.

Yes, I still sometimes yell when I get angry.  And I still get angry about stupid things that aren’t worth my energy.  But I snap out of it a bit more quickly because there’s someone standing next to me telling me that it’s not the end of the world that I punched a hole in his bumper with a tow hitch; that termites in the couch are shitty, but they’re not the end of the world.  I’m quicker to bounce back now that I have someone to show me that everything will be okay.

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Filed under Family, Holy Shit I'm Getting Married, Relationships are hard

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