An Itch I Can't Scratch

Last night I laid in bed, feeling the weight of the day pressing into my skull. My boyfriend leaned over and kissed me. I did not feel his lips on my skin. He then said, "I love you." I did not hear the words from his mouth. My mind knew he was speaking to me, but I could not process any of it. He leaned in to kiss me again and I my lips began to move without conscious effort. Sharp words flowed from my mouth and his reaction was one of hurt. What did I say and why did I say something hateful? What is wrong with me?

Lately, I have been discovering little pieces of myself that have either always been there and are now surfacing, or they are new emotional tangents. My latest discovery is that of control. We as human beings on this earth do not have control of our lives. However, I am trying so hard to control mine. After I returned from New York, I thought I had to prove myself to everyone. "Look what I learned there. Look what I can do. I went there for a reason!" These thoughts were constantly jumping around in my head as I tried to go through my day. I have moved on a bit from those thoughts, but I still feel that something else is brewing and untapped inside of me.
What could this be?
I feel satisfied for the most part in my life currently. I have a wonderful boyfriend, I am dancing, teaching, living, breathing, and I'm happy. Not full, but satisfied. I could always have more and I want more. There are goals I am striving for, but I feel so impatient. Constantly, I am reminding myself of why I am working where I do and getting paid so little. Money always seems to be my issue. My long term goals keep me here. Yet, I still have feelings of unsatisfaction.
Maybe it is because my simple needs are not met for myself right now.

It is these small moments that concern me. I should be able to go into my home and feel at peace and relaxed. Yet I take my day and my small frustrations out on the boyfriend. I am afraid that subconsciously these small things have spawned from my parents. Their arguments always spawned from small arguments over unimportant issues, like "Who is going to take the garbage out and why is it still sitting there?"
We vowed we would not argue over these things, but a small voice inside me becomes so flushed and angry when the small things have not been taken care of. Domestic arguments are not the root of the problem.

There is an itch somewhere that needs to be scratched. I just don't know where.