How Anger and Fear Steal Joy
Surf Your Fear to Find Your Joy.
Anger crawled hot and prickly over my skin and up my spine. I didn’t care about the damn squash, and why did it matter anyway? I was busy, dammit, and the squash would be fine.
It was our third almost fight that evening. Over a spaghetti squash.
The actual chain of events doesn’t matter; my husband and I were both tired, groggy, and unable to heat our dinner without sniping.
Everything he did got on my nerves; my skin felt raw. The slightest emotional touch rubbed like a towel on a fresh sunburn. Although I had a bowl of delicious spaghetti sauce (made by said loving hubby), with a glorious chevre melting into the squash in question, I only wanted to growl.
To keep it civil, we retreated to our corners. Literally.
Hubbie with his wine into his green chair. Me with my bowl of gooeyness in my red chair.
Like boxers in opposite corners between rounds, we held our phones in the space between.
Mouth full, I offered an olive branch;
“This sauce is really amazing.”
“Thanks.”
We went to bed in silence, too exhausted to fight, too numb to unravel it.
