Opportunity is knocking. I quit my job. My gut told me it wasn’t right. Wasn’t serving my family, my mental health, my time, even my bank account, with the cost of childcare and gas. When opportunity shows up knocking at the door of my psyche, the metaphorical devil and angel, for lack of a better analogy, are always in tow.

My angel, is ever the optimist. Filled with endless ideas, confidence and assuredness. She tries, in vain, to remind me that with a little discipline and determination, this opportunity could be wonderful. I am smart. I am capable. I can finally, finally set some of my countless plans in motion and make everyone proud. No, make myself proud, the rarest of feats.

The devil is convincing, though, and always the loudest one in the room. What have I done to my life? How could I leave a stable job with a pension? No matter how toxic. No matter how underpaid. No matter the fact that I was turning into a shell of myself; a trembling, angst filled nerve ending; a monstrous parent vacillating between screaming at my toddler to get his shoes on so I wouldn’t be late and doom scrolling my phone each evening in lieu of reading to my children. No, none of that matters because I should have just stayed. A stronger person could have stayed and read the stories. Could have gotten up earlier and stayed up later to get it all done. Could have managed the weekends better, maximizing the quality to make up for the quantity. I’m weak, she says. Weak and lazy and stupid and entitled. I know my angel has some valid points, but damn, that devil is loud, and fending her off is exhausting. So exhausting and time consuming that I don’t have time or energy for much else. When will the children’s books even get written? How am I to start my marketing business when I don’t even know where to start? And it’s so hard? And I’m so stupid?

I guess the first thing I need to do is silence the devil. No. That’s not right either. She’ll only yell louder and I’ll only grow more tired. I need to let her finish yelling at me. Patiently wait for her to finish her thoughts. Thank her for her input. Let her know that I appreciate her tough love, but maybe I’ll try the other thing this time. I know it will be hard, but it can’t be as hard as the self-loathing. It might not always be pleasant, but it might not always be unpleasant, and we’ve all been living in that place long enough. Maybe when the devil has said all she needs to say, when all the bullying is out of her system, when she realizes that she’s not getting the reaction she has come to expect, she’ll be the one who grows tired. Maybe then, the angel’s voice will grow louder and clearer and stronger. She’ll tell me I can do it and I’ll actually be able to hear her this time. She’ll remind me of all the ideas I have. Good ideas, original and clever and filled with potential and promise. They’re real. I’m real. The me who has a fire inside and wants to make something for myself, by myself and can truly succeed with a just little bit of discipline and determination, is real. Opportunity has knocked before and I have worked so desperately to drown out the devil that I’ve silenced the angel as well. I’m answering the door this time and letting them both in. Only one may be welcome, but they come as a pair and it seems I can’t have one without the other. So, enter and say your piece. I’ll listen. I’ll acknowledge. I’ll appreciate your input for what it is. Then, I’ll move forward.