The Outburst

 

Dear Bloggers,

It is difficult for me to broach this subject, but right now, my world has come to a standstill, and I have little hope for a bright future. No, I don’t want to play the victim, but I do feel very lonely at the moment. Lately, more and more people around me have either left or passed away.

My past is starting to catch up with me; I am receiving help from specialists, and I find myself thinking that if God exists, He is putting me to the test once again. I am still a father to my children, but our relationship has grown rather distant; this makes me feel as though my only remaining function is to ensure there is money coming in to live on. Am I truly a bad person? Is there anything good left for me to do in this life?

No, I am not becoming depressed. My outlook remains clear, and my spirit is still positive and full of humor. I’m just a stupid bastard who is no longer good for anything. Yet she keeps making plans for the future, and sometimes I just don't get it anymore. The agreement was that we would grow old together, and I remain loyal to that.

For years, I have lived with the stark reality that life can end at any moment, for any reason whatsoever. Whether you get gunned down, contract a fatal illness, or suffer a heart attack—these are all factors beyond your control. I embraced these thoughts years ago, and they are increasingly becoming my reality.

After a weekend outing with the family—including an overnight stay at a hotel abroad—irritation suddenly flares up, and I find myself being grilled about a particular issue. Due to exhaustion and cracks in my armor—something from the past getting in the way—an enormous outburst of rage followed on my part, during which I grabbed her in anger; something I have been unable to set right to this day. And now she is actually afraid of me as a person; I’ve destroyed everything.

The house had been quiet for days. Ever since the evening I lost my temper, an invisible wall had stood between us. The argument itself hadn't been about anything major—just my behavior and the fact that I was spending more time with one of the children than with her. But my sudden outburst of anger had set the tone. The look of shock on her face was still seared into my memory.

In the days that followed, we kept a low profile. No more big fights, but no intimacy either. We were living like friendly strangers under the same roof.

She was sitting at the kitchen table, looking at the half-empty cups. I walked into the room, grabbed my backpack, and gave her a brief, cautious nod. No kiss, no "have a good day at work"—just the bare minimum. Her posture was defensive, as if she were constantly bracing for another storm. God, the workday felt endless, and I had no desire to go home. But where else was there to go?

When I got home, I felt the urge to go straight on the defensive. *It was only one time, after all,* I thought. But seeing her tired eyes, I realized the impact was far greater than the cause. The quiet in the house wasn't peaceful; it was the silence following an earthquake, where everyone fears a massive aftershock. How could I turn this around? It dragged on for days.

One evening, I decided to break the pattern—not with a grand gesture, but with calm. When she was sitting on the sofa reading, I sat down next to her. I deliberately kept my voice low and my hands open.

"Listen," I said softly. She looked up immediately, her muscles tensing for a moment. "I just want to say I’m sorry about the other day. I shouldn’t have raised my voice or lashed out at you. You’re safe with me here, and I’m going to make sure this doesn’t happen again."

At first, she said nothing. She looked at her phone, took a deep breath, and then let her shoulders drop. The wall didn’t crumble immediately, but the tension in the air eased noticeably. The process of quietly mending things had begun—albeit slowly, cautiously, and step by step. I can only hope I’m on the right track and that things will go back to the way they were.

The Old Sailor,