I'm so angry.
I'm angry with my prodigal boy and his seemingly determined decisions to NOT move forward in life.
I'm angry at his failure to launch.
I'm angry at my failure as his mother to better prepare him for launching.
I'm angry at my bulldozer personality that so often chose not to listen to his father, but was so set on my own way being the right way.
I'm angry at all the things I know I did wrong as a parent.
I'm angry at my prodigal for refusing to stay on medication and allow it to do him some good.
I'm angry at him for letting depression get a foothold constantly and thus making forward motion that much harder.
I'm angry that he refused to work more and have the money needed to take care of himself.
I'm angry at all the things that have transpired that make our finances so difficult and scary.
I'm angry at our landlord for not fixing all the things we want fixed.
I'm angry that I hate cleaning and see such evidence of that around me.
Did I mention I'm angry?