Owning My Choices

I have a loving family, yes I do.

But my parents unfortunately do not believe in healthy boundaries.

They guilt trip me, emotionally manipulate me and make me feel like shit because I don’t spend more (translation: all) of my time with them. This makes it hard to own my choices without feeling guilty.

I am 25…. I have a job, an apartment, a car, responsibilities, goals and dreams.

And yet they want me to leave what is mine and come back to them. To live with them.

I’m trying to establish myself. To make myself a better adult. To achieve the dreams and goals I’ve set for myself in life.

They think it foolish that I would want to become an adult outside the confines of their house, smothering love and care.

Sometimes I feel like I’m crazy. Am I stupid to want to try to grow up on my own? I’m not divorcing myself completely from my parents. I still visit them quite frequently (1-2x per month). I try to be intentional about spending time with them. I talk with them.

But they make me feel like a selfish piece of shit.

They nag me. They tell me I don’t spend enough time with them. They ask me why I’m running away from them.

Mom and dad you don’t get it. I’m not running away from you. I’m trying to figure out my life. I’m trying to find myself.

And then they tell me, “You know we won’t be around forever.”

Fear lodges in my throat. The ground beneath me disappears. And I’m faced once again with the truth that one day my parents will die. They won’t be there for me.

When that day comes, will I regret all the choices that I’ve made? Will I wish I spent more time with my parents?

With each passing day, I feel like more of a failure. I don’t love enough. I don’t spend enough time with my family. I don’t make enough money. I’m not brave enough. I’m not good enough.

With each passing day, my parents remind me of how much I’ve fucked up in life. They tell me in many different ways with many different tones. Subtly, directly.

Being around my parents sometimes makes me wish I were never born. To carry the weight of someone else’s disappointments is a painfully soul-crushing thing.

But it’s too late to die. And I’m too brave to kill myself.


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