Work In Progress
Dear mum,
we, Joey and me, moved house the other day. We only moved across the street. An exchange.
It's a beautiful house, and I'm lucky to be making it home. I just wish we left a beautiful house behind. Our house. The family home. I never wanted to carry on there, to take over. It was too big, and littered with sad memories. It wasn't home in the end, rather a burden that became too much for me to carry.
I'm sorry.
Most nights, I cry myself to sleep. I don't like to admit that, nor do I want you to worry. But I'm sad - my heart is broken. Missing you, still grieving that massive loss, and a feeling of guilt that won't go away. Guilt, I've been packing in bags and carrying with me since I was a child. I don't know how to throw it away, or how it keeps attaching itself to me.
I've nothing to feel guilty for. Have I?
Many people, family included, have always looked at me as someone who had everything handed to me. Like I was some spoiled brat, who got everything she wanted. Demanded, even. But you, me and dad know, that couldn't be further from the truth. Yes, I was taken care of. I was gifted more than others at times. But I wasn't a spoiled brat who asked for those things. I was loved. I was taken care of by two of the most giving parents. I was the baby.
As a child, at birthdays and Christmas, friends would show me what their parents bought them, and ask what I got. I would only show one or two gifts, so they wouldn't then go ask their parents why mine gifted me more. Even then, as young as I was, I understood that I was "spoiled". Even with pocket money, friends got £2, and I got "the same". Even though, I was given a fiver. I never rubbed what I had in anyone's face, but I always felt guilty for having it.
You know I've always been appreciative of everything, and still am. I couldn't be more thankful. But as thankful as I am, I find it hard to enjoy nice things. Mum, I feel like I don't deserve them.
Years of being told I was "spoiled", that you did everything for me. Told by people, who never lived with us, and didn't understand - or want to - that we all looked after each other. I gave too. As much as I could, and I know I was appreciated, also. I know you never looked at me in a bad light, mum. We were best friends. We had each other's back, and we looked after each other. I don't have to explain that to people, but still they paint it their way.
Now in this new house, I find myself - yet again - not being able to fully be happy. Again, I feel like I'm undeserving because of what I left behind, and how I'm viewed by my moves; my choice to move on, and finally catch a little happiness for myself. I'm 33 years old, mum. I know you don't need to hear how long I have waited to catch a break. But this is it. This is that break - my chance to be happy for however many years I have left.
Why am I so sad?
Please, drop me a sign and tell me I deserve this. That I am worth it. Please.
Wish you were here...
we, Joey and me, moved house the other day. We only moved across the street. An exchange.
It's a beautiful house, and I'm lucky to be making it home. I just wish we left a beautiful house behind. Our house. The family home. I never wanted to carry on there, to take over. It was too big, and littered with sad memories. It wasn't home in the end, rather a burden that became too much for me to carry.
I'm sorry.
Most nights, I cry myself to sleep. I don't like to admit that, nor do I want you to worry. But I'm sad - my heart is broken. Missing you, still grieving that massive loss, and a feeling of guilt that won't go away. Guilt, I've been packing in bags and carrying with me since I was a child. I don't know how to throw it away, or how it keeps attaching itself to me.
I've nothing to feel guilty for. Have I?
Many people, family included, have always looked at me as someone who had everything handed to me. Like I was some spoiled brat, who got everything she wanted. Demanded, even. But you, me and dad know, that couldn't be further from the truth. Yes, I was taken care of. I was gifted more than others at times. But I wasn't a spoiled brat who asked for those things. I was loved. I was taken care of by two of the most giving parents. I was the baby.
As a child, at birthdays and Christmas, friends would show me what their parents bought them, and ask what I got. I would only show one or two gifts, so they wouldn't then go ask their parents why mine gifted me more. Even then, as young as I was, I understood that I was "spoiled". Even with pocket money, friends got £2, and I got "the same". Even though, I was given a fiver. I never rubbed what I had in anyone's face, but I always felt guilty for having it.
You know I've always been appreciative of everything, and still am. I couldn't be more thankful. But as thankful as I am, I find it hard to enjoy nice things. Mum, I feel like I don't deserve them.
Years of being told I was "spoiled", that you did everything for me. Told by people, who never lived with us, and didn't understand - or want to - that we all looked after each other. I gave too. As much as I could, and I know I was appreciated, also. I know you never looked at me in a bad light, mum. We were best friends. We had each other's back, and we looked after each other. I don't have to explain that to people, but still they paint it their way.
Now in this new house, I find myself - yet again - not being able to fully be happy. Again, I feel like I'm undeserving because of what I left behind, and how I'm viewed by my moves; my choice to move on, and finally catch a little happiness for myself. I'm 33 years old, mum. I know you don't need to hear how long I have waited to catch a break. But this is it. This is that break - my chance to be happy for however many years I have left.
Why am I so sad?
Please, drop me a sign and tell me I deserve this. That I am worth it. Please.
Wish you were here...
