Unfortunately, this isn't about fireworks. My relationship with my boyfriend had always been tumultuous. Lately, though, the resentments stacked upon distrust and blanketed with fear had become too much for me to handle. The relationship was at its one year mark, and I decided, sink or swim, it was time to meet my family. I could use their opinion, and our 4th of July barbecue seemed the perfect occasion for a multitude of reasons. The location was my Aunt and Uncle's house, a two and half hour drive from Philly.

My daughter had been staying with my older sister in North Jersey. We were going to rendezvous at the barbecue and I was going to take her home from there. My oldest son decided not go for reasons too extensive to explain in this narrative and irrelevant to the point of the story. My youngest son was with his father for the holiday. Non-negotiable, like everything else with his father.

When I informed my daughter that I invited my boyfriend and he was riding back with us, she said that made her uncomfortable. She didn't want to be alone in the car with us. Her bedroom is next to mine, so she is the only one who has really been subject to some of our louder moments of discord. So I said, fine, I will not bring him.

Well, this was entirely unacceptable to my boyfriend. He became very upset and decried the callousness of my decision to choose my daughter's feelings over his. He asked to strike a deal, how about if he took the bus home from my Aunt and Uncle's house so she wouldn't have to be alone with us and he could still attend the barbecue. I shot her a text to see if this compromise was acceptable, and in the meantime, I confirmed with him that he was really willing to take a bus back.

He stated that he takes the bus from DC frequently enough, and it would be fine. He found that the latest bus to leave was 8:30 p.m., and considering the barbecue started at 5:00, I again confirmed this was his desire as it meant he would spend more time in transit than actually at the party. My daughter texted back she was fine with him coming if she didn't have to ride home with him, and I again confirmed this was what he wanted to do with his holiday. Meet my family and spend hours in transit instead of hanging out with his family and basically having zero drama.

I didn't speak this fear at the time (and I most certainly should have), but I worried that I was going to be put into the position, once we were there, of bringing him home with us. I didn't want my daughter or me to be emotionally manipulated once we were there, like can't he just have a ride back we were being unreasonable it's so far, the bus is uncomfortable, etc., etc.

With much trepidation (on my part) we embarked on the journey. The ride down was not remarkable. We arrived at the party and he was ill received by my parents, which was to be expected, and then we sort of parted ways for a while as I caught up with my daughter, niece and nephew, cousins, etc., etc. He hung out in the kitchen mostly (because food).

Around 7:30 p.m. we were sitting next to each other at the dining table. One of us made a comment about getting to the bus station in the near future. A few moments later, he asked for the key to the car. I gave it to him, he went out the door and I turned my full attention to the dance competition my niece and nephew and little cousins had orchestrated. After a while, I realized he had never come back inside and I went out. At this point it's around 8:00 p.m. He said we should get to the bus station. I queried as to whether he was going to say goodbye to anyone, he said there wasn't time, and I went back inside to grab my phone and let people know I was going to be gone for a few minutes.

The bus station was four tenths of a mile from my Aunt and Uncle's house. A few stop signs into the trip, he says he doesn't think we're going to make it in time and can't he just ride home with us. Well, I went from zero to rage in the blink of an eye. I had been holding this fear in all this time that I would be put in this position, and, unbelievably to me, here I was. I hardly remember what I was saying but whatever it was, it was loud. He looked at me, incredulous, and said to let him out of the car. I was still on my rage rant, but at this point we are around the corner from the bus station. I said I would just take him and see if he can still catch the bus but, admittedly, I was yelling when I said it. He jumped out of the car at the stop sign. I yelled after him, you are making this decision to walk away right now. He kept walking.

So here's the inside scoop. As a child, teenager, young adult...all of them...my feelings and opinions were ignored by parents. As a result, I learned my feelings didn't matter over someone I loved or who was in a position of authority. Throughout my adult life, this default "understanding" of myself and my place in the world has caused me nothing but physical, emotional and spiritual harm. I absolutely refuse to do that to my daughter. Her feelings of comfort, especially around an adult male she hardly knows, have to take precedent over said adult male. Period.

Should I have expressed all of these things to my boyfriend? Absolutely. Should I have allowed him to come? I am thinking no, I shouldn't have. Should we have broken-up over the incident? Doesn't really matter, we did.

I don't remember being quite that angry in quite a long time. Was it disproportionate to the offense? On its face, yes, it absolutely was. Should I have taken some deep breaths before responding? Um, yes, I was admittedly out of control. In my defense, I had recently stopped drinking (my normal coping mechanism), and I had spent the last few hours with my family (a trigger requiring the engagement of coping mechanisms), and I already had played this whole scenario out in my head. By internalizing my fear instead of discussing it, I allowed this situation to unfold the way that it did. Mea culpa.

My takeaway from this experience is that if I allow my fears to fester internally, I will lose control of my rational response in the face of the manifestation of that fear. My other takeway? I suck at relationships.

Thanks @tmakovic for this challenge. Apparently I needed to process incident this further.

Her voice was airy, and she was blinking more than usual, which forced my blood’s temperature up. I refused to look at her while she described what happened on her date, listening intently while reprimanding myself for getting angry at her and trying to keep my temper at bay.

She asked me if I thought he liked her. I said yes. And as she stepped closer so I’d look at her pleading eyes, I sighed deeply to avoid escalation. Of course he liked you, I told her. You’re pretty, skinny, smart, funny, real, you can cook, clean, hold a conversation, and on top of all that, he’s interested. There are guys that close themselves off, if not to specific people, to everyone, but this is not that kind of guy. Show him you’re interested too, and you guys will be together, easy.

The analysis is always the easy part for me. I’ll tell you all the logic, but please don’t make me feel anything. Her expression finally faded as she considered this information with more rationality, and I could see I didn’t give her what she wanted to hear. I’m not sure what she needed me to say, and even if I did I’m not sure I could deliver. I could not make myself soft, even for my sister’s sake, because it’s so much easier to get hurt that way. By who? With what? Nobody’s looking to hurt anyone, you might say. It’s us though, not them. We hurt ourselves with our anticipaiton of future comfort or ease, and with no defined sense of what that means, we lose the sense of how to get there.

I saw in her my own raw hopes and delicate dreams and I despised them. Not because they’re emotional or irrational, but because they were fragile and I am very clumsy.

Don't call me fake.

I'm not.

I don't know who I am.

Does that make me fake?

Sure. Maybe it does.

Give me credit for trying.

My brain was rewired, my heart overshadowed.

That wasn't me, not really, you see,

Yes, that version of me was false.

But at the time my strings were tied too tight.

Cutting off my air supply, I couldn't breathe.

He was controlling me.

It's not an excuse, it's the the truth,

and you know it too.

I'm still lost.

My wings are broken.

I'm still somewhat of a reflection,

but not of him.

Not this time,

Please put my glass shards back together again.

Blood drawn, tears fallen, cuts open,

I can't see.

Help me.

I'm sorry.

His demon is controlling me.

"We didn't have a relationship, we only went out on a few dates." This is what he told me after I had defied my parents and flew out to visit him over my Spring break. He was my everything. I truly thought that he was the one. In fact, I had made a last minute decision to apply to a graduate program about an hour's drive from his home in hopes of seeing where things would lead. But now I knew the answer and it cut like a knife.

Dating in the Jewish community can be interesting. Everybody seemed to be somebody's cousin, best friend's nephew's college roommate, or some other Six Degrees of Separation connection. He was no exception. He was the first cousin of one of my parents' best friends.

Stupidly, I had too much pride to go crawling back to my grandmother's condominium a few miles away and have things get back to my parents. They had never approved of him to begin with being 13 years older than me and divorced. I wasn't ready to hear the inevitable "I told you so." So I was stuck at his apartment until my flight home, about 3 agonizing days.

One night we got into a conversation about his relatives that were my friends, too. "So what does my cousin think of all of this?"

I replied, no holds barred, "Well, she told me not to get involved in the first place because you are an asshole."

"Okay, fair enough. What else has she told you about me."

I was on a roll, "Well, she mentioned you and your siblings' history of drug abuse. In fact, she said that your sister is very sickly and your brother is a total loser. That he cannot get his life together."

His face is crestfallen and I know these truths are causing him pain. I continue, however, wanting him to feel a fraction the hurt that I did.

"She said that your first marriage was doomed from the very beginning and that you never should have married her in the first place."

He shakes his head sadly, "I can't believe it, my own family."

I know that at this point I should stop it, try to make him feel better but in looking at him and his pain I think, "Good, at least he is as miserable as I am right now."

I continue, "She said that she could see how I had fallen for you because you have the gift of gab of your father, although you both use it for shady purposes."

His face falls even more and his eyes are pleading with me to stop. I just couldn't help myself as the hurt from the heartbreak made me viscous in a way that I never knew I could be.

"Oh yeah, she also mentioned that you remind her of Mickey Mouse with the way your ears stick out."