At the end of a rough week

I started off with the moral high ground, I know I did. Reviewing the source of a recent misunderstanding, even with the 20/20 vision of hindsight, I believe my conclusions to have been the most reasonable interpretation of the facts. Never mind that they were wrong; on the face of it, I was the legitimately injured party. My tears (though amplified by insecurity) were justified.

Somewhere in the ensuing days, however, I became the bad guy. I slunk down a deceptively gentle slope; I didn't even realize I'd done it until it was too late. I couldn't sleep at all last night. I kept turning the events and my actions over in my mind trying to pin down the precise moment I slipped onto the low road.

I found it, don't worry. DH is as sick of hearing about all this as I am of thinking about it, but he dutifully asked me what I've learned and this is it:

Wounded animals lash out; grown women don't. If I were to relive the last week, I would go straight to the source for a clarification rather than moping around, waiting for someone to notice. I wanted to be defended. I wanted to be consoled because I wasn't the bad guy here. Problem is, if I'd had the sense and maturity to get the full story up front (I was afraid to know the details, honestly; I was afraid it was worse than I imagined), I'd have discovered in time that the other person wasn't, either.

So now I am the bad guy, the occupant of the moral low ground and people I care about are hurt. I keep thinking, how did this happen? How did I end up here from there? But I know the answer.

*Sigh.*

If nothing else, I've learned from the experience. Small consolation to some people, I'm sure, but for now that and my apologies are all I have to offer.


~RCH~