Sometimes I Have to be the Bad Guy – and I’ll Learn to Live With It

Being a woman… getting older… finding out who you are… it’s all part of a journey that is probably never really complete (I’ll let you know in 50 years or so if I still feel the same way). I’ve been doing a lot of soul searching this past year. I’ve made a conscious effort to find places for self-improvement, and tonight I’ve found another one.

I tend to take on the role of the “responsible adult” in my family. (If you’ve been reading for a while, you know this already.) I’ve been parenting my parents nearly as long as I can remember, and now that my Dad has passed away and my brother has reached the peak of his “stupid” phase, I find myself wanting to parent him too. But I’m not his parent, and he is an adult now (albeit, barely).

My responsibilities lie in taking care of myself, my Dad’s two dogs (which now reside with me) and my future children. I have to make my decisions for their best interest, as I am their primary caregiver. It is (and will be) my job to ensure they are kept safe and healthy, so if my brother tells me to “go fuck myself” after I’ve refused to let him take the dog camping in the middle of the night with a group of his rowdy 19 year old friends, then I’ll have to be okay with that.

I consider this practice for when I have finally adopted. I will learn to trust my judgement, and not feel guilty or sorry for my decisions.