Clay’s anxiety eats at me, at him, and at us. The longer we’re together, the more I see the angsty teenager that takes up so much of his space. He tells me the speed limit’s 60 while I’m going 55, then says it’s 70 while I’m already going 75. He tells me which lane to be in — this one, not that one, now move over. When my patience runs thin and I tell him to stop, he says he isn’t telling me what to do, he’s just giving suggestions. Yeah, right.
I love him, I truly do, but why do I have to carry his anxiety? Because he can’t? I tell myself to be more patient, because I know he’s trying. I know it comes from his insecurities and fears. But sometimes, I’m just tired of not being lifted up. Maybe that’s the lesson — that I should focus more on lifting others up instead of myself. Maybe serving more and complaining less would make things feel lighter.
And yet, here I am, complaining. Which feels gross. But also, human.
No one told me that owning a business would mean constantly putting out fires — from employees, from clients, from every direction. It’s exhausting. You start to see the darker sides of people, and maybe of yourself too.
But life’s like that, isn’t it? Hard. Messy. Full of lessons that don’t come easy. I’m learning and growing every day — even when it hurts.
