Dear husband,

Gah, I did it again. I got mad at you about something completely beyond your control. And even once I realized it, I didn’t back down. I held onto it as it squeezed like a knot in my gut.

Why do I do this?

Why am I always so angry?

I think in some ways the anger and frustrations of raising little kids get bounced right over to you because being a jerk to kids is wrong.

But being a jerk to my spouse isn’t OK either. Yet I do it every day.

Tension, resentment, frustration . . . it all gets transferred to you. And I see it happening, and I feel it happening, yet I don’t say anything. I just let it sit there, like a big, rigid rock in an otherwise smooth stream.

When you try to help me get the kids ready for bed, I’m angry because you’re doing it all wrong, or you’re not reading my mind, or you’re asking me a million questions and I’m just done with questions for the day because my brain is fried.

But even worse is when you don’t help. When you’re nowhere to be seen. My mind churns with visions of you on your phone with your feet up. I become furious without you even knowing. So when you do head my direction, I’m ready to pounce and you don’t even see it coming.

It’s not fair. It’s not OK.

I don’t know why I’m always so angry but I know I need to stop taking my frustrations out on you.

I know you don’t deserve any of this animosity that isn’t even created by you, only directed at you because you’re there and you’re the only other adult in the room.

Today I vow to stop, or at least communicate myself better. You’re a good father. You’re a good husband.

I need to remember we’re on the same team.

So again, I’m sorry. And if you didn’t know this already, let me say it right here, right now: it’s not you . . . it’s me.

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