I. Don't. Fucking. Know.
No, it wasn’t right… I was never an “easy” child. I was born with a plot, a scheme to move toward where I want(ed) to be, even when I didn’t know where that was. but life… We left my dad when I was 11 years, 5 months and 14 days old. Not that I am keeping score or nothing. Soon thereafter – nah, long before that – I learned that making my way would be what worked for me. Sure, I have realized late in life that I have a support system. Sure, I have found my voice over the last few years. What remains to be realized, though, is that there is very little that a 6 th -grader has left to know about the world. And I was ill-prepared. Enter: “I don’t know” The reality of the world is that no one knows everything. To my parenting, though, this seemed to be an issue. Fuck, when I don’t know I don’t know. But instead of followup questions, I got hit with WHATEVER was convenient. Well… Fuck it, I can beat “I don’t know” better than I can g