In the Saddle

I might has well have flipped the table.

There are some things we can’t undo.

I don’t know if any of you recall this post…I’m assuming, if you’ve read enough of this silly blog, that you know who it’s about. Suffice it to say that that evening an altercation occurred between us and our favorite neighbor. Suffice it to say that I lost my temper a bit. Okay, a lot.

I have a terrible temper. It doesn’t happen often and it takes a lot to set it off, but when the level is reached, I can go from 1 to 15 in about 2.2 seconds. It’s bad news. I’m not proud of it, believe me. I usually follow it by crying (yes, we know, I’m a crier) and making cookies for all involved (or apologizing). Thank you, dad, for this wonderful personality trait.

Well, that evening…shit went down. Like most things in life, I think this can be related to the Real Housewives of New Jersey. She was Dannielle; unreasonable, immature, confrontational. That night, I was Teresa; kind of naive, a little stupid, incredibly volatile. The tension had been building up for months…well over a year actually…and eventually, I was pushed to lose my shit.

It was my prostitution whore moment.

I go back and forth with how I feel about it. In some ways, I’m proud that I stood up for myself. In some ways, I’m glad I told her off, because it felt good (for about two seconds). But mostly, I’m embarrassed that I got to that point (oh no, now I sound like Kelly Killoren Bensimon! Systematic bullying! SYSTEMATIC BULLYING! Yes, thank you Andy). (For those who do not watch any of the Real Housewives series, I apologize for all these references.) Because it didn’t do any good. It only made things worse. I dropped to her level…below her level, actually—I mean, she never called me a…well…it rhymes with mucking bunt…and it was pointless. It didn’t get me anywhere. Yes, it felt good to release it. But It didn’t do anything but make the situation ten times worse than it should have been.

So where does all of it lead? It leads to tonight, at our condo association meeting. We’re trying to resolve things. We have a steady contact from her unit (not her…she won’t even acknowledge us) and are trying to work everything out. Amidst everyone talking and agreeing and pacifying and moving forward, I was mired in the past (per my usual), thinking, how can I explain this so I am understood? That there are other problems that need to be worked out? That I’m not the monster here?

The point I came to realize is that none of it matters. I come from a perspective of, if I can make you understand what I’m upset about and I can understand what you’re upset about, then we can move forward. So I will try to reason with someone ‘til the cows come home. But there are some times, some people, some situations that cannot be reasoned away. Either because the damage lies too deep or because the people aren’t willing to budge or maybe it’s because I’M not willing to budge. I can’t put it all on other people. But what’s becoming clear to me is that I need to change my approach…because I’m not getting anywhere with mine. I try and I try and I try and then I explode and call someone a prostitution whore or something of the like and then I ruin any progress I’d made or would make. I can’t make someone listen. I can’t make someone see my side. I cannot always be right.

This is a hard lesson for me to learn. Partly because I’m idealistic. Partly because I’m a stubborn bitch. I want what’s fair and just and right. And who even knows what that is anyway?