There are people who know me, but probably not as well as they would like to think. There are also people who know me better than I would like to admit. But either way, there is a sort of relationship there. Within these relationships are choices, boundaries, and respect.
You are not in either of those categories.
You are in a category of your own. You do not know me, not at all. And there is no relationship to speak of. And yet, you continue to roll in and out of my life like a tidal wave, leaving unsettling and uprooting reminders at every turn.
If you knew me, you would know that I am kind, sincere, and trying so desperately hard to stay afloat. You would know that I don’t waste my time on things that seem fake, or needless. Especially now. You would know the year I’ve had. You would know how much I care, and how easily I can be hurt. You would know that the last thing that I need is this.
Over and over and over again you would show up. Each time, I would let you, hoping for change. Each time, you would let me down. Finally, I stopped hoping. Finally, it didn’t matter and I didn’t care. You never crossed my mind. But true to the past, you’ve once again shown up to put yourself there.
Does that seem fair to you?
Do you think I am asking for this?
I’ m sorry that you are haunted by your choices. I’m sorry that you feel that you have some right to me, and that it’s okay to treat me like a drop-in dance night. But I did not ask for this. This was your choice, a long time ago. I just happen to have been in the middle of it. However, when you made that choice, you chose to let go.
I would never change that choice, and I am grateful for it. But my being free of you was supposed to have come with the territory.
And now I am angry. I am angry that although I did not choose this, it continues to be a problem for me. I am angry that I cannot even choose to keep you at bay because you are so fleeting. I am angry that you feel I should have to tip toe around you. I am angry that you came into my world, and expected me to run from you, while you chased me. But then, you aren’t chasing me, are you?
I am furious that I am an adult, and you still do not have the respect and decency to treat me as such. I have not treated you with any less.
And most of all, I cannot believe that instead of worrying about my husband, the impending arrival of my new baby, and the countless of other things that I should have on my mind, here I am. Tired, exhausted and awake. Taking the time to let this seep into yet another moment.
I suppose that all I have needed to say is that you don’t know me, and you don’t own any part of me.
I am stubborn, passionate and determined because of my mother. I am kind, reflective, and conscientious because of my father. My beliefs and opinions have been shaped by my family, and by my experiences. I make the same ridiculous expressions and noises as my siblings and my cousins. My love of music, books and any sort of classic have been a part of me since I was old enough to talk. My competitive streak and love of sports probably has something to do with wanting to stick out in a large family. I sing really loudly, talk really loudly, and laugh really really loudly. It’s hard not to know I’m there. I suppose I’m sort of odd; we always have been. The true meaning of love and its fire has continued to amaze me through my husband. I have a tendency to need to figure things out for myself. I have been told that in both a negative and positive way, I can be unstoppable. I am not always proud, but I always learn. I have regretted, I have tried, I have become.
I suppose what I really wanted to say is that I am still me. I am still who I always was. And the people I have to be grateful too for that are the ones who have been there from the beginning.
I guess that for a moment, I just wanted to feel that I was still my own. I needed to remind myself that yes, I do know who I am.
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