Bridges Burned

It doesn’t take a lot for me to be set off nowadays. And yes, I am ware that no one makes me mad, I choose to be mad at them. Or whatever that old coincident saying goes. But the point of it is that I burn bridges and am not the best at fixing the problems.

I’ve burnt a few bridges with my coworkers, to the point we don’t talk to each other without a 30 minute ice breaker to feel out each other’s overall mood.

I don’t try to burn bridges, but when I don’t get space or I can’t formulate my words correctly, they come out bad, I get upset that I can’t talk or think or recover, and I lash out. The other day I completely set the mood for the entire shift for not talking until I was spoken to. It’s “out of my character” to be quiet apparently, and nothing makes me more mad than for someone to tell me who I am when I’m not asking for their opinion.

I have problems with people. I’m not the best at fixing something. It’s even harder when I have fear of confrontation. It’s this mental tug-a-war of whether I want to talk or stay quiet and find the words. But, ultimately, I’m a perfectionist and a procrastinator. Meaning I’ll find the words but wait for the best time, and then hate myself for not speaking up when I had the chance or ruining my delivery.

I wish I could just talk to them without anything on the line, but this isn’t a perfect world. It’s far from it.

I can still smell the embers flying in the wind, catching all the debris of annoyance and molecules of frustration, ready to start up another burnout inferno.

I could really use a cold glass of water.


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