Thank goodness for trusted friends.

I freaked the fuck out yesterday. I really did.

In the morning, my boss, Mei, called me and said that she found me a place to stay; there was pride and relief in her voice, as if she'd just found a home for an abused foster kid. A part of me wanted to jump on her words, leave Rob's place behind, and start anew. But something was holding me back.

I thought it might be fear of the unknown, or fear of losing Rob - and, in truth, those are huge components of why I was holding myself back. The real reason was that it wouldn't feel like my decision. It would feel like Mei was impinging on my ability to take care of myself, and at this point in the game - when I'm 23 and more or less certain of who I am - there is no reason to need anyone's advice for an issue that's so big.

It's strange and paradoxical, this bigness and smallness. It seems like I should only want advice on the big things, and I should be able to handle the small things on my own. And maybe for other people, that's the case. But I'd rather ask someone for advice about make-up and exercise than about what path to take in life. I have a philosophy of doing things and at the end of the day, I'm just going to do what I feel is right anyway.

Mei and my other boss from the women's center, Nina, have tried to fill a void in me. They've been great about finding me work, counseling me, mentoring me - but they're not shrinks. They're not certified counselors. And when they attempt to mentor me, they sometimes end up mothering me. And this is frustrating. So very fucking frustrating.

They tell me things like "Rob's no good for you", and one of them compares him to their dead husband, and they tell me that I'm the victim of a neglectful childhood, and they force me to confront truths that I would have taken a longer time to get around to. While the last part is something that I don't really mind, the rest is unnecessary. I know what I have with Rob, and just because they're older and have been married a combined five times, that doesn't mean they know better. I also know what kind of childhood I had, and it wasn't a neglectful one. Not by a long shot.

There have been truths that they've imparted on me, i.e., Don't take advice from people who are just as broken or more broken than you are, that I've always known but never put my finger on. And for that, and so much of what they've done for me, I'm very grateful. But for the rest, for the mothering and the doting - in a way, they infantalize me, and I don't need that. I'm a grownass woman, damnit.

*****

At the height of my fear and confusion, I wrote a few emails and called a few people. My mind was racing faster than it had ever raced before, so great was the fear and anxiety. All of my emails sounded wieldy and dramatic.

One of the people who emailed me back was a girl I grew up with but who has always stayed on the periphery of my life, Crystal. The first thing she wrote was, "You're doing it again, M. Relax the fuck out. You know what you're doing. You're just freaking out because someone you trust is telling you otherwise, and you're not a know-it-all on your high horse, unable to take judgment or criticism. You're one of those people who lets people speak their minds, and lets peoples' words wash over them. You take what you can work with, and sometimes you're such a fucking packrat that you think you can work with more than you can carry, so you weigh yourself down unnecessarily." By this time, I'd already spoken to two of my closest friends and my brother, and I'd calmed down enough to realize I'd only a few days previously given the exact same advice to someone else.

Crystal's email went on to say, "Why the fuck do you ask advice for shit you already know? I swear, sometimes you're such a fucking lawyer."

When I called Andrea and told her about my thoughts and how I was freaking out, she said very calmly, "Sounds to me like you've got your head on straight. You always have. Just the fact that you're freaking out and letting me know of your doubts supports that. You could've just as easily kept all of this to yourself, but instead you're strong enough and still as creative in your instincts that you let it all hang out. And that's a good thing. But you know what you're doing. You just have to trust yourself."

All of the emails and conversations that I had last night said basically the same thing, and that's when I realized that these people know me best. They know that my dramatics are really just versions of venting, and that the last thing I ever really need is advice. They know that if I ever feel insecure, the best medicine is to show me how I really know myself, and how there's no reason to be insecure. They know that 95% of the things that I say isn't new; I've had an inkling about them for a while. They know that I am not stupid, and I am not stubborn, and I am willing to make myself go nearly crazy in order to be fair and give other peoples' words credence. They know this about me, and they remind me of myself. What they don't do is offer themselves as examples or assume they know better than me.

I can learn a lot from them.

*****

Yesterday, I had the chance to change a lot of my life. I'd forgotten to trust my gut, and I felt alone and adrift. I missed my family more than ever, and I was scared about my relationship with Rob, and its projection.

But it all stemmed from one simple truth: I've been in charge of changing my life, and it's always turned out all right. Regardless of anything, on the subject of My Life, I know better. No one else does. Just me.