Four years ago my life was very different. I was blissfully unaware of just how bad it was going to get. I had a husband (he gone but pictured above). I had 2 kids (they not gone, yet). I had a chocolate lab (she gone but also pictured above). And I had a (almost) successful business where I was in charge of slinging beers and cutting checks (and a lot of other shit but we don’t really need the particulars there). More than likely, I was taking it all for granted. As with anything that has come and gone in life, you look back on it with a fondness that may or may not have been there in the present moment. More than likely, it wasn’t. Because that’s just human nature.

It’s no secret that I have been having a hard time figuring out what the hell to do with my life since losing Ash. I’m not ashamed to say that he was the leader of our family, our guiding light (even if sometimes that light led us straight into the shitter – at least I got to say I told you so like a true, mature adult), the one who made the big decisions (I mean, we made them together certainly but I wasn’t very good at making big decisions so I relied on him heavily to do, well, the heavy lifting). And before you women’s rights enthusiasts get your boxer briefs in a bunch, this is how I chose to live my life. I enjoyed Ash being the rock of our family. I enjoyed letting him take the lead. It’s how I received love, felt safe, it was our comfort zone. And I’m talking big things – like when we moved to Colorado, when we got engaged, when we moved to Texas (moving back to NC was 100% me, however), when it was time to buy a house, when it was time for me to quit working, when we opened a business – while I was certainly an integral party in said decision making, when it came right down to it, he was the one coming up with the ideas and I was the one saying great idea, let’s do that or really shitty idea, let’s not do that and then he would tell me why it was a great idea and the mother fucker could sell ice to an eskimo so he would inevitably talk me into whatever I originally thought was a shit idea. You get the picture. (Side note – one time I “decided” to buy a different kind of cheese dip than I usually bought and Ash thought it was disgusting, inedible, worst thing he ever put in his fucking mouth (based on his reaction) – we got into a huge fight. Over cheese dip. So clearly, I could not be trusted to make big decisions. Look how bad I fucked up the cheese dip. I joke, mostly. We did have a big fight over cheese dip, though.)

Anyway, that was a really long tangent to say I’ve been semi confused without his insistent insistence on being in charge. I do not know what to do with my life. I have these kids that I’m raising. And I’m doing a pretty mediocre job at it. They’re pretty ok most of the time. I have the property management stuff that I’m also rocking pretty averagely. But on a daily basis, I feel like I need more. Sometimes. And sometimes I feel like I should just ride this wave for as long as I can. I have time, freedom and plenty of shit that always needs to be done around the house. But then I also have this nagging guilty feeling that I should be doing more. Then I tell that feeling to shut all the way the fuck up, up shut fuck mountain, that I’m doing plenty, and then it’s just a back and forth in my brain that is exhausting. Hence, the Xanax in my medicine cabinet. Just kidding. I don’t have a medicine cabinet.

So, I applied for a job. And I got called for an interview. And I scheduled the interview. And I canceled the interview. And then I got emailed asking to please reconsider. So I rescheduled the interview. And then I canceled the interview again. Then I got another email asking me to please reconsider. And so I scheduled another interview.

And, today, I put on my big girl pants (but actually I wore a super cute green dress), and I went to the first job interview I’ve been on in years. And when I say years, I mean years. Like a lot of them. And I did a good job. Like, I said nice things about myself to another human. I did not self deprecate one single time. Can you believe it? Because I sure fucking can’t. But I did it. And I might actually get offered the job. Which opens a whole new can of decision making worms. But we’re just taking this one large decision at a time. Baby steps for this little baby decision maker.

In other decision making news, it’s been a long time since I’ve written. And that has been on purpose. Not because I don’t have things to say, I do. Life has been very hard as of late. And it has nothing to do with my dead spouse. I’m used to that kind of hard. There’s just been a lot of negativity surrounding me, coming from directions that I wasn’t expecting. And I won’t go into it. But I did want to touch on just the tip, just a little bit (hey oh!).

Climbing atop my soapbox in 3….2….1….

We are all human. We all make mistakes, especially us adults. Not one of us is perfect. Not one of us will ever be perfect. This is also true for children. My children make mistakes all the time, just like me. They are not perfect, just like me. I’d like to think that we try hard to be decent human beings. Do we fuck up? Daily. But the one lesson I try to instill in my children (and myself) over and over again, like a broken record, is to lead with love. When we start rooting for others to fail, when we are taking to social media to vilify children, when we are hoping that bad things happen to one child so that good things can happen to another, we have got a really big problem. We have lost love. And the one thing that every last fucking one of us needs is love.

Don’t be an asshole. Don’t root for anyone, let alone children, to fail. Be honest. Stay humble. Help others when you can. And lead with fucking love.