It’s uncanny, really. In just half a day, half a dozen people who know me in real life have offered their unsolicited opinions on how I should direct my energy (tone it down), what I should focus on (my artwork), and how I should live my life (quietly, without ruffling any feathers). All of them seem intent on making sure I stop using my words. Creativity is fine, apparently, as long as it fits their idea of how I should express myself.

Here’s the thing: I’ve spent years enduring my mother’s unspoken disapproval, jealousy, silent judgment, and conditional love—and now that I’m done with that, I sure as hell don’t need it from anybody else. Trust me.

Unless you’re living my reality, carrying my burdens, and fighting my battles—your opinions on what I “should” be doing are irrelevant. No offence, but what the actual fuck?

I know exactly where my energy belongs. I don’t need your control disguised as concern. It’s not your JOB to try to rein me in. I’m FIFTY FIVE YEARS OLD. Not 15. Do try to remember that. Who I am and what I choose to pursue is my decision, and if that makes you uncomfortable… well, that’s not my problem, is it?

Next time you feel the urge to tell me how to live, maybe direct that energy toward your own reflection. I promise you’ll find plenty to work on there.

For those of you just watching me and thinking, “Shit, she’s awesome,” I see you too. 😎

And lastly, I miss my dad. And I miss Nicky. Never—not once—did either of them feel the need to rein me in. Maybe take notes?

——-

Image caption: my pencil drawing of Cecil the Lion from August 2015. Remember him? You like it? Awesome. Now let me roar and stop sending hunters after me. I’ll do pretty drawings again if and when I bloody well want to, FFS. 🤦🏻‍♀️

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• A Christmas gift to myself
• A few of the drawings I destroyed this year
• THE AKATHISIA FILES: PT 5
• THE AKATHISIA FILES: PT 4
• “I like rocks.”

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