Angst

I’ve been feeling a little angsty lately, which I realize is understandable given the current circumstances of my life.

But I don’t want to spend any amount of time feeling anxious and morose.  What’s the use in that?

So I went out for dinner and drinks with my girl Kelly, who helped me kick that shit to the curb, where it belongs.

Here’s the thing. 

I spent nearly 3 years of my life being told what I was and wasn’t allowed to do – and I hated it.

Now I’ve got all this freedom, right?  I’m alone a lot of the time, but I’m never lonely.  I get to make my own choices and be my own damn self, which makes me incredibly happy. 

So where’s the angst coming from? 

Along with all the amazing and helpful support I get, a whole lot of advice gets thrown my way from people who presume to know what’s best for me, for us. 

Their intentions are good, their hearts are in the right place…  Or so I assume.

At first, I would just smile and nod and thank them for their concern.  Tell them, as I tell pretty much anyone who asks, that I’m taking things day by day and that in general, things are good. 

It is what it is, things are what they are, from one moment to the next. 

It’s interesting, though, how pushy people can get when you don’t take their advice.  How downright catty people can get when they think you’re doing it all wrong.

I’m getting a little tired of it, to be honest.  I’ve had enough of being pushed, of being told what to do.

I admit that I’ve never been through anything like this, that there are times when I haven’t a clue what step to take next, when I worry that I haven’t handled things thus far the way I should have.

—–  Just FYI: I don’t want anyone to think I don’t appreciate the support they’ve given me.  If you’re here reading, this probably doesn’t apply to you at all.  Unless you’re an asshole, in which case, take note: you stink, and nobody likes you.  Sorry.  —–

So all this doubt built up:  Am I doing the right thing?  Should I be doing things differently?  Are my kids going  to end up all fucked up in the head?  Am I, in fact, a bitch for standing my ground?

But no… really, no. 

I have to do this my way, even if it’s unconventional.  With guidance, with support, with advice that I can pick and choose from when the time comes to act, however long that may take.

But, ultimately, my way.   

—–

Also has to be said: Fuck ’em if they think I’m doing it wrong… at least I’m doing something.  Alternately I could lay in bed all day, unwashed, letting the kids eat spoiled food out of the garbage.  Maybe they’d understand that course of action a little more.  You think??