As a child, my mother adored me. Still does. Tells me I am her world, her heartbeat. She allows me to still get away with much because she is scared I am one uncomfortable instance away from being completely gone. She takes my bare minimum effort because of her love for me.
I am not sure where my incessant need for peace and quiet comes from. I am working on learning myself and coming to terms with the parts of me that aren’t so great. I am learning how self absorbed I am; how great of a friend I am when you are at your happiest but I am hard to find when I am needed. I am learning that my comfortability stems and poisons into all my relationships at my own peril. I would have been lost without all the people who lifted me at my worst, and now the tables are turned and I can’t reciprocate any of that emotion.
My father, who has been suffering from Parkinson’s for over a decade is slowly shrinking away and I cannot bear to see him like this. My mother is working and taking care of him alone. My two best friends are both in the weakest points of their marriages and taking steps to better themselves in spite of it. My husband is working his ass off to support our family and here I am … Spoiled. Selfish. Unbothered.
It is with deep regret I say these things. It is with shame that I admit to these truths. I am doing so to hold myself accountable for the change I have decided to pursue within myself and with physical efforts. The love that has been extended to me my entire life must be returned, and with interest, because I am also learning that, with the things we take for granted; time still touches those things. Death still comes to all things, and regret is almost as lasting as both.
