Oh I don’t like this word. I truly do not like this word. I don’t want to write a five minute free write on the word blowout. Some of the worst moments of my life revolved around blowouts. Knock down, drag out- rip the bow out of my hair- clutch the pearls from my neck- Jesus hold my hoops- kind of blowouts. Nothing good. Nothing good comes from a blowout. Sure, you get to say everything that’s been boiling your blood for some time now, but is that actually going to fix everything? Make it better? The crying. The yelling. The accusations and assassinations. The hurt feelings and can’t take backs. A blowout equals mass destruction. It’s the worst parts of me and the worst parts of another person heading straight for each other like a freight train. And if you look up ahead, you can see– there’s going to be an accident from which we just may not recover.