Clear as mud.

How much are you willing to compromise to make something work? 

A recent honest question caused somewhat of a shit storm. I asked it out of genuine curiosity. And it triggered the person whose ears it fell on. The response came in spurts: how could you even ask? Crying, blaming, screaming and then eventually silence.

How much are you willing to compromise to make something work?

Once the silence was broken, a slur of accusations erupted out. In order to make this work I was being demanded to compromise my integrity, my honesty and who I am. Veiled in threats, shame, tears and emotions it came out in a circular and incoherent pattern. This is after I had apologized for asking the question in which I did. But I would not apologize for asking it. It still hadn't been answered. It was an honest, simple question.

How much are you willing to compromise to make something work?

It happened so fast and quickly, that I thank my lucky stars and intuition that I kept my wits about me and didn't agree to anything I would regret. Fifty-five minutes passed in a blink of an eye.

How much are you willing to compromise to make something work?

At this point, I was willing to let the answer to the question slide. Even though it would be nice to know the answer. But I was paying a tall price in order to find out. And the answer really didn't matter. We all own our truths.

How much are you willing to compromise to make something work?

Unwilling to move forward, she stayed in her perspective and I stayed in mine. She wanted me to step into hers, absorb it, own it, live it breath it. And I refused. That's not my job, nor my burden. I am willing to move on, to recognize each of our positions and come to some sort of reconciliation. But when it became obvious she only saw it one way, I called it.

Do you want to work it out or dissolve it?

Her answer was clear as mud when she hung up on me.