choosing

I’m feeling proud of myself. I dreaded a family get together this weekend. There are the normal dynamics plus some new shifts in the family that bring extra tension. 


Me to self:

I don’t want to go. 

But you have to go. 

Why do I have to go? 

Because it’s a kid’s birthday party. And your kids are going. 

What if I stay home? 

D can’t watch all three kids safely at the pool. So you’ll make one stay home “sick” and miss out on the fun? 

Perhaps. 

You can’t do that. You’re not a good mom. 

But my kids need me to be healthy to be a good mom. I’m not healthy when I am around this group of people, particularly when you’ve been brought into the new shifts this week and had a few days in a row of severe anxiety. 

It probably won’t be that bad. You just need to go. 

I can’t do and subject myself to it. I just can’t. And furthermore, I don’t want to. I want to feel better. 

[repeat versions of this over the next hour] 

. . . 

And I chose the healthy option, to stay home. 

The freedom in choosing for myself. For protecting myself. From situations I was never protected in to begin with, back before I had a choice.

I’m taking my life back. I did that earlier this year with fearing my dad. I still fear him, but I refuse to let him have power over me with threats and manipulation. If he hurts me or my family, it will have to be. I take every precaution I can, but worrying about him really is giving him free rent in my home. 

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