It’s not me, it’s you.

Sometimes shit happens. Our estranged children often like to blame us for everything wrong in their lives. Someone is out to get them? Must be mum! And it’s Mum’s fault I don’t have as many fans as I had last month! And she’s the reason I have all these other problems! Mum Mum Mum

No.

Shitty things happen to people who are being shitty. It’s the law of attraction. Own your own failures.

Maybe people aren’t listening to your music because…they are listening to a new song they love. Maybe a load of your streams were your mum supporting your music. Doing what she can to mother when there are very limited options to be there for you. Maybe she’s the first one who actually buys your music. Maybe she’s proud of your creativity and ability to do anything you set your mind to - just like her. In your words, she’s a God-level girl boss and you have her to thank for so much. You learned from the best in the business and you appreciate not a second of it. It was ‘abuse’.

Perhaps, if you don’t want people going looking for naked photos of you, don’t put up naked photos of yourself on Twitter. Don’t talk about being ‘horny’. Stop talking about how sexy you and are how much sexier you’re going to get.

If you don’t want me or other people whom you’ve discarded knowing about you and what you’re up to, stop using a public forum. If you want privacy, be private. Why on earth would you post on Twitter several posts about how you’ve figured out that it must be a family member and that it’s you-know-who? For heaven’s sake, use the IP address you have to track down the perpetrator of the crime and get it sorted out. It’s SUPER easy to trace an IP address, so you obviously haven’t tried very hard. It’s just easy to lay it on mum’s lap. Hell, you’ve probably already sent a giant note to a bunch of my friends and clients again in an attempt to harm me, break down my friendships and ruin my entire universe. I’m miserable, so mum’s got to be miserable.

I’m happy to send my IP address to the police department out there in Nova Scotia so that they can take my photograph off their suspect board down at the station.

I was listening to a book…I don’t recall which one…perhaps Danielle LaPorte…where the author says that they knew they were finally an adult because they stopped blaming all of their problems on their parents. I can’t wait for you to get there. Your bio dad still lives in that headspace, and as your greatest influence in your adulthood, you may never.

Today, I took my son to McDonald’s. On the way home, he commented that someone new must be working there. I asked why he thought that. He said because the french fries don’t have any salt on them. My body tensed up and I started to pull the car over. I asked if he wanted me to go back. I was automatically reacting to a situation with my daughter in the car a few years ago. Someone had not salted her french fries enough. It was as though someone had personally attacked her with a bucket of acid. Screaming and yelling refusing to eat her french fries. I can’t remember if I phoned the restaurant or if I actually went back but it was a very stressful experience.

My son said, “No problem mum! Obviously, it’s just someone’s first day on the job. No big deal.”

That’s right. It’s no big deal. I am so used to a child that makes everything into a big deal. I’m so used to being ordered around, used, and taken for a fool. My God. My son is a breath of fresh air. I have had enough of the abuse, More love, please.