Being home with my son was a battle. A battle against the wolf. That wolf lurked and lingered. It undermined me and my choices. I watched it circle the house as it watched me feed the baby. "You don't know what you're doing". "You call yourself a mother." The taunts were piercing. I was shattering a little more each time.
You never step back and take a look inside yourself and ponder your shortcomings, instead you minimise, alter or deny them. You are not vigorously honest with yourself. You never pause and observe your behaviour without judgement. You are too busy taking everyone else's inventory, yet not willing to take your own.
Personality tests are used to filter the serial killer from the shopgirl, the transparent from the transvestite and the popstar from the pervert. I still get that incredible feeling of excitement if I go for a job interview and they ask me to fill out a multiple choice questionnaire to deem if I'm worthy of working for them.
I'm hurtling towards my 42nd birthday. It's not even around the corner, it's standing right in front of me with a mean look on it's face and it's punching one fist into the palm of it's other hand. It looks like trouble, it looks like it means trouble and for all intents and purposes, it most probably is trouble.