I don’t know if you were aware that I was in charge of this summer, in charge of the whole world’s summer, but that was me.
Oh, you thought you hadn’t resigned as king or queen of the world yet? Move over, we’ll lie on the grass with our heads in the clouds together — exhausted, controlling monarchs.
I had to manage my daughter’s job away from home, my interaction with my estranged husband while hating him so much I had the urge to hit him every time I saw him, my relationship with my son, who got a big ole eye full of what his mother is like as a “real” person, my tenuous job in a law firm on the brink of extinction, and [insert all my shit and all your shit].
I’ve come to a screeching halt.
Did I have to manage everything? Were they, are they, mine to manage? I can’t live on adrenaline forever. In fact, it’s over. I need a time out to recognize my my boundaries and what is actually mine to control. The next royal in line can take the scepter.