The result of this lack of control is quite simple: I pay for it each and every time.
I wish I could say I took it all in stride. That I was the bigger person, and walked away with my dignity and heart intact. But then I'd just be another liar with my pants on fire hanging by a telephone wire.
I was not brave. I whined about the world and how it had turned against me. I cried on every pillow I owned. I stood in the mirror so I could see the mascara tracks caused by the deplorable wreck that was my life (I'm really not proud of that one). I shook my fist at the ceiling and told God He wasn't real.
And in response, He kept loving me the way He had been loving me since time began.
I was handed warmth when I lost myself in the winter of my sorrow. I was given light for the shadows I had gathered for myself.
That light was aggravating. How dare there be happiness while I was trying to think about everything that truly sucked about this world?
Bit by bit, I'm tearing that castle down. And bit by bit, I'm putting the grudges away.
Turns out, it's a lot easier to walk when you let things go.