What the hell are you doing? UPDATED!!

This is the thought that goes through my head most days – especially lately. It’s the mantra of my self doubt and insecurity.

WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?

Indeed. What am I doing?

Fuck if I know. I’m considering gastric bypass before I go another few years being fat as fuck. I’m starting worry about my longterm health. But having never had major surgery (or even minor), the thought of my entrails being cut apart and rearranged scares the living shit out of me. But so does having high blood pressure, joint pain and type 2 diabeetus. I worry about my fat. Being fat really does suck donkey dick. But how will I pay for this folly? Hmm? [UPDATE: I am getting surgery, this year, May 2016, in Mexico, costs $4250. NOT bypass, tho, I’m getting gastric sleeve. It has FAR fewer complications, leaves stomach intact – just small – and nutrients absorb properly so that long term health is not diminished. There will be a vlog on youtube, look for misangela channel. -A April 2016] 

Fuck if I know. I’m trying to round up a business plan and get an SBA loan to start up a pub. I must be crazy. What do I know about running a goddam pub? I know the books, but there’s a fuck ton more going on than the books. I’m currently so fat and in such bad shape, I seriously wonder if I can do the job. I guess that’s what managers are for, but still. $200k in debt is pretty fucking daunting. Am I out of my rabbitassed mind? [We chose to stop pursuit of a restaurant. We are doing arcade stuff instead. See IndigoDragon site. -A April 2016]

Fuck if I know. All my creative pursuits have gone by the wayside with my workload from the taqueria increasing and the constant nagging worry about that fucking pub. Mainly worry. I’m feeling like our whole future is on my shoulders and I just don’t know if I want that kind of responsibility. It’s crushing my every thought, really. Why do I let it make me crazy?

Fuck if I know. We also need to buy another house while Nick still has a job. THAT will be fun, fun, fun. NOT. Maybe we should just fucking rent? It’s generally more expensive to rent than to buy (once you have all the shit you need to run a house, which we do). But fuuuuck the fucking aggravation. Also, having to wait a set period of time is not sitting well with me, either. It just makes me more anxious and gives me more time to second guess myself. [We did rent, in Tucker of all places, just 2 months after this post, and it’s AWESOME. No repercussions from leaving Maplehurst either. NO REGRETS. -A April 2016]

I’m stressed out and not very happy right now. I am letting all this shit get to me.

What the hell am I doing? [Making some good decisions, that’s what. Moving forward and having no regrets! :) -A April 2016]