I ask myself as I crouch down on my sister in law’s porch. Trying to wipe away the tears that are coming way too fast for it to be about the lack of competence of such a trivial skill.
Biting back accusations instead of hurling them at my husband is a step in the right direction, but why am I even thinking them? Is he happy I failed? Will he get joy from my embarrassment? Where is this coming from? What’s this really about?
Dark thoughts swirl in my brain. I believe myself when I swear these types of thoughts don’t exist. They’ve been gone long enough it’s like they never were here. And then they’re back and make no sense. Where’s they come from? What’s this really about?
I suppose it’s just another reminder I’m broken. A warning not to get too comfortable. I’ll always be dark and twisty. Incompetent. Incapable. That’s what it’s really about.