These days I never know if what I’m doing is the right thing or if I’m just going with the flow of whatever else everyone is saying.
Whenever my opinion or decision differs it feels like I’m in the wrong.
Am I in the wrong?
Don’t answer that.
A very big part of me doesn’t want to push through something I don’t like… I’ve asked before if that was me being childish, selfish, or a stereotypical millennial because I honestly don’t know if where that thought is coming from is somewhere genuine—at least not out of fear.
Fear is good but I’m not even sure if it’s fear.
Truth be told, despite the comfortability of having an income my mind wonders if I’ve made the choice to have it half-heartedly.
I’m currently sick. Unable to go to the doctors. I have a lot of adult things I want to do but can’t because I feel like I’m not an adult. Wow. I just realized that. My mother catches me when I fall. My sister treats me like her little sister, not that she doesn’t have the right to but when you’re treated like a kid, you start feeling like one. The people doting around you can get very suffocating. It’s nice… to feel like you’re loved but I can’t tell anymore if what I’m doing is right. What is right?
Say you were given a book because you love to read. It’s a mystery book but you only read romance novels. You’re not really interested in a mystery. They know it too, that it isn’t something you like. Yet they insist. So you take the book because they picked it for you. You tell them you’ll give it a chance and you do.
You’ve gotten to the first chapter, phew! Finally, you end that chapter. You take a break because that one chapter took a lot of energy from you. Disinterest takes ample of energy. That break takes a while, far longer than you’d expected yet really it’s only been an hour. You return to the book, pick it up, and turn to chapter two. You remember chapter one well enough. You know the events and you know the characters—at least the important ones but your eyes glaze over the first sentence of the new chapter. You flip back and forth because somehow you really couldn’t remember what happened even though you swear you know them. You keep flipping back until you realize you’re still in the first sentence.
You put the book down. The book isn’t for you but you feel bad for not reading it. It’s set aside where you keep looking back at it.
Should you keep reading it out of guilt?
That’s how I see the job. I really wanted to like it. I thought about what if I hadn’t taken the break? The vacation? Well… the vacation was planned way before. There’s no way I’d give it up. Even now, I don’t regret going home but I do regret not staying longer.
Returning to the topic of sickness. I’ve been sick this past week and I’ve taken it as a sign to really think about my decision.
I make a lot of decisions in my life that I wish were easily reversible but we all have to deal with the results of our decisions. I don’t want to regret anymore… I remember saying that to myself. Yet I did it again. I made a decision that I knew I wasn’t completely sure about. Which brings me to a place I’ve been to before time and time again. When am I going to learn to trust myself to make the right decision without the influences of others? When will I be alright being the person that I am now without feeling shame when it comes to family? Why am I even ashamed? Because they are. A part of them is at least. I hear it in their silence when the topic of me comes up. I hear it in their denial of my situation. I hear it. I see it when they look at me confused and pleadingly. I see it when they choose to dodge the subject. I see it. I speak it when I tell them I’m an artist. I speak it when I choose to gloss over my lack of a degree. I speak about it. It hurts… every single time, it hurts. It’s heartbreaking and fills me with more shame and guilt.
I’m not afraid of committing, of being rejected, or of failure. I’ve been there in all of those. They don’t hurt as much as disappointment. Though I know I only have to live up to the image of me that I want to be, I can’t ignore the image I believe they want me to be.
It’s a cycle of pain.
I want to stop reading but I don’t want to disappoint anyone.