I’m not prepared to say I gave up. I did, though. I can’t hold space for her unconscious ranting. It’s me, of course it is. My tone of voice again.

“What about your tone of voice, right now?”

“This isn’t about my tone of voice…”

“Right.”

I hung up. The same issue on repeat. My tone of voice. My body language. My words. My dominant positioning.

Okay, no more dominance. No more texting. Done. Blank. Release.

Reset and move along now.

“What do you think keeps you from being able to adjust your way of speaking to me? It seems like a small request.”

Oh boy. It’s me, I understand now. It’s always been me and my way of speaking.

Nope. No longer me. It was me, you’re right. Blowing up your divorce with my own flavor of arsonist and firefighter. I’m no longer a firefighter.

The boats on the shore are still available. There is little danger of death or dismemberment. It’s time to set sail. Go overboard. Do something different.

I long for her. I’m going to walk out into the sunlight now. Take all the time I need. Alone, again, naturally.

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