When I give into it, the victory is like dark chocolate, bitter-sweet with a sticky aftertaste. I need a metaphorical glass of water to get it out of the back of my throat.
I feel bad that I gave into pride, when dealing with my father regarding his irritating behavior over the weekend. I should have just ignored it. It's not as though I see him all the time. I probably shouldn't have written an apology-cum-explanation for my irritation.
He said today that he was sorry I was still mad at him. I was over my irritation Monday night, after some good venting to Foxe and Raven, but he didn't know that. I felt a stab of embarassment and sadness that he still thought I was angry. It's not his fault he doesn't know how to have a normal conversation with me, anymore. And having my brother down in Florida with him is probably just making his (and my mother's) emotional state all the more tenuous. I wish my brother had stayed here, away from them. Their retirement is really just more of a focus on my brother's antics than it was before. Their hearts, in more ways than one, probably won't be able to take it.
And my father thought I was still angry with him. All that unhappiness he's got from over five decades and I had to go and add to it.
Who needs Jewish grandmothers to give you guilt trips when you give them to yourself just as effectively? Dammit.
