Guilty

Why is it, exactly, that I feel guilty for my own limitations of patience? When I look at myself logically, I recognize that I generally exhibit nearly infinite amounts of patience. Yet, there's a big part of me that feels guilty each and every time that I lose my patience.

Case in point: my ex-boyfriend.

This is a man who, by infinite accounts, I owe nothing. This is a man who owes me nearly 1800 bucks. This is a man who has managed to make me feel small in every conceivable way. Despite all this, when we agree to meet this evening to discuss repayment of this debt, this man stands me up. Even though I have purchased, and prepared, steak and an assortment of grilled vegetables. Even though there is wine. Even though he has begged and pleaded for this meeting for a looooooong time.

He called me two hours after he was supposed to show up. He was on the phone, and couldn't tell the person he'd call them back in 30 seconds in order to call me and cancel. No, instead he chose to call me well after the steak had been sitting on the grill for far too long, and my patience was worn to the approximate width of tissue paper.

Even still, I feel guilty for my apparent inability to "let it go." J spent the past six years pushing my boundaries beyond what I've ever considered my comfort zone to be, and insisted that I was too "uptight," too stressed out. He actually had the nerve recently to tell me that I was happy to be depressed about my life. Newsflash: When you are looking for a job and facing THOUSANDS of dollars in student-loan debt, when you've been in a dead-end relationship for six and a half years with no hope of a future, when your "partner" owes you nearly two-grand, the stress just happens.

Maybe I'm crazy. Feel free to tell me if you think I'm crazy. I just think the road to patience turned to gravel about two years back.