But if people will laugh at my work and keep a sound roof over my head, who am I to complain?

What a liberation to realize that the 'voice in my head' is not who I am. 'Who am I, then?' The one who sees that.

I am who I am.

I can't not be who I am.

I am who I am, a Southie.

I have two children who died before reaching 30, so who am I to complain about being alive?