I Do What I Want.

It took me a few deep breaths to type that title once I realized that was the subject I would be writing about today.

My eyes keep flipping back to it. They have a will of their own, apparently. Has me teetering between smiling and tearing up.

I have thought many times of getting I do what I want as a tat. Maybe under or above the tat I already have. I’m sorry if you don’t approve of tats. I never really liked them. Before. They have grown on me over the last few years. I signed off on the parental approval form so that my 16 year old man child could get a tat. Never, in a zillion years, would I have thought I would ever do that. But that was before.

My Girl was the tat trailblazer in our family. I told her if she would just wait until she was 18, we would make sure she went to a decent tattoo parlor. She couldn’t wait. Now three out of the five of us have one; a fourth has been tossing around the idea of getting one. The fifth one turns pale when needles are shown on tv; I’m thinking he will always be a (My) non-tat-Man. In a twisted turn of events, fulling supporting the flaw of I do what I want, My Girl now hates that tat and would like to have it removed.

I do what I want was definitely my motto once I hit around age 13. Sadly, I continued to live that out for many, many more years. I find myself…still…wanting to stomp my foot like a tantrum-engrossed toddler slash teenager, hands on my hips, bottom lip thrust out, screaming it out as loudly as I can for Someone, anyone, to hear and just let me.  Quite often, Someone does just let me do what I want. Always with disastrous, or at the very least, unwanted results. I can almost hear Him saying, “okay, girl…you just go for and do it your way; let me know when you are ready to do it My way.” As I’ve gotten on in years the time I spend doing it my way is usually pretty fleeting; however, I have to admit the damage done during that short amount of time seems to grow each time I do it my way. Funny, that.

Right now, I’m trying to get back on track. The lasting effect from my last little trip down I do what I want lane is pretty ugly; it’s going to take awhile to make it pretty again, assuming it ever can be.

I’m still thinking of having I do what I want tattooed on my wrist, however. Not as a reminder that I need to be doing what God wants me to do, regardless of what I want, but because it was the favorite saying of my nephew, Andy. Don’t think he was a bad kid because that was his favorite saying. He wasn’t. He was actually an amazing young man, even during his teenage years. He had to do things his way, though. I can’t really look back and see where he wasn’t right in doing what he wanted. Maybe because his time was going to be so short in this world, he was allowed to do it more his way. Or maybe he had an added on little bit that he didn’t share with us…I do what I want…as long as You give it the thumb’s up.

Miss you, boy.

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