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I want to contribute and be a good person, even when it’s hard. Especially when it’s hard.
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Guys, I don’t know how to say it, but we went to church at The Cheesecake Factory.
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I am 44 years old, on my second career, and think I am ready to push on to my third and final working chapter, whatever that may be. Alas, it is not retirement.
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I feel like my husband and I are going through a rough patch, where we are on different levels, different vibes, with different goals.
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My feeling of self-worth is tied inextricably into my work and my gratification comes through recognition of others and being right.
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In an instant, his dad changed from being a sleepy puppy dog to one of those giant gorillas you see at the zoo and think, “I wouldn’t want to piss that guy off.”
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I’ve been mad at God. I still may be mad at God.
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I will always try and be the best mom that I can be for this kid. Because he is special and beautiful and kind and amazing and broken and sad and lost and cynical, and he is mine.
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The Aging Perfectionist 