A Mountain Morning's Regret
If only there was a verbal eraser for the things I said that morning.
I really wasn't upset by your work, I was upset by something that's been building inside me, this wave of fear that all the stability I want is everything I don't have right now (a marriage, a family, a house to make a home, a job, a part of the world to live in).
Instead of enjoying what I have with you, I take the burden I feel to find these things and I put it directly on our relationship, fretting over what the future may or may not bring. I let my family's judgmental-ness hurt me, I let my stubborn independence go to far.
That's why I exploded.
And that's why I feel so small and cruel. Because the only way to all the things I really want, and the fact that I want them with you, is trust. To trust the person I'm with, to trust that life will work out ok.
You have that trust in the world and that is something I love about you and am ashamed of lacking in myself.
This apology isn't perfect but it's a start.
I apologize for not being as good to you as I strive to be.