At the Bus Stop

On my way to work, while waiting for a bus, it hit me. No one adjusts to me. I felt like a doormat.

It was so random, I didn’t even realize I was “thinking” but the thought solidified and it couldn’t be clearer. While I was wasting 30 minutes of my time praying (literally) that a bus to work shows up in the distance, I thought I shouldn’t be here. I’ve been working for how many years now? I should be living on my own, somewhat comfortably since I earn fair and don’t live extravagantly. I should be in a completely different situation but I’m not. I always adjust. I’m a doormat.

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My sister has a life of her own. She has a list of things she should take care of before the nuclear family such as her own health because she’s sick. She also has a kid. And I don’t know the setup but I’m sure in lieu of paying rent, she shoulders other things to I don’t know. Maybe make it more fair, her living situation.

But if I face that with an equally selfish spirit, I dare ask. I also deserve a life of my own. I can also get sick (6 months after my operation, my period is still weird). I want to also have a baby (project), like more time and resources to do my blog maybe. Even when I was living on my own, it was me who was covering the rent and utilities at home. So why or more importantly how can she live with such abandon? Why is she allowed?

My brother I’m most proud of. I have seen him grow to become a responsible person. And his values are intact, as it should despite the allure of money. He tries, and gives without hesitation when he can. But in a few months, he gets to commit to a life of his own. I bet he’s scared, because in doing so my support would have to stop. But I also bet he’s excited. He gets to build his life down up. I’d love to think I bridged him to where he is now. Maybe that’s taking too much credit, but I’d love to think I helped take him to his own life. I’m just sad a little. I cry when I ask myself, who takes me to mine?

My mom has given up. I can’t help someone who has given up. Funny though, sometimes I’m jealous. I want to give up too. Maybe for a day, I want to give up and not worry because I’d be taken care of.

If I could live with abandon, if I can give up and decide to start my own life from where I stand, without care for people who might be dependent on my actions, it doesn’t mean I would. I just think it’d be sweet to have a choice. I always say everybody has a choice. Sometimes, I say it too much, I sound like I’m simply convincing myself.

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Although I am happy to help, I won’t deny that when the going gets tough I get a bit disappointed with my life choices. Why can’t I be more selfish? Why do I feel alone in this?

Unfortunately, the ‘this’ includes the this.

Last Friday, I had a meeting with B and she called me out for the obvious. “What am I going through?”

Then my mind and my heart spiraled into this whole conversation: I’m so lame; This is so silly; Am I so desperate for attention; Your feelings are valid.

A part of me is thankful for the difficulties. In every challenge, I get an opportunity to grow and be a better person. Also, if it weren’t for things I went through, I’m sure I wouldn’t have the same sense of self-awareness and confidence. At the end of the day, I know I have my back. I won’t let myself fall apart because it’s too risky. There are so many variables.

Sometimes though, like this morning, where I pray for a bus to take me to work, I wonder why won’t anyone adjust to me?

Song for this feeling: A Lack of Color by Death Cab for Cutie

Always, K

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