In yesterday’s post I revealed that my life as a single mother has not always been, um, a fairy tale life.
Specifically, when I said this:
I didn’t intend to have a life of hardship – which is the best word I can come up with to describe the edge of hell that defines my 20’s.
The truth is that although my life started off with the same advantages as everyone else, the downhill spiral began with one decision: To have children with Mr. Bad Choice.
The warning signs were abound, including the voices in my head.
“NOOOOOOO! DON’T DO IT!!!”
But being young and stupid, I thought – I actually BELIEVED – that I knew better. I accused the voices of being paranoid, told them to shut up and went on my merry, little I’m-ignoring-the-voices way.
Well it didn’t take long for the light to shine bright on the direction I had chosen for my life and with two young kids in tow, I finally left. I knew that it wouldn’t be easy to raise my girls alone but I also knew that “hard” would be better than “miserably disappointed”.
Mr. Bad Choice turned out to be MR. DEADBEAT DAD who never contributed to the task of raising our children, two beautiful girls who deserved more than I could give them alone.
The reason I’m telling you this is because I have a strong urge to take every clearly unhappy woman – mothers usually – and shake some sense into their all-knowing asses. You may be 16, you may be 25, but if you’re contemplating on building a life with someone and a little voice that’s not your mother’s is saying, “NOOOOOOO! DON’T DO IT!!!” – I urge you to listen to that voice.
The quality of your life is not dependent on luck. You make your own luck. And that luck is made by your decisions. Your choices.
I’m done preaching.