Just a quick caveat… I do not know these people. I felt like I should showcase them however, because at some point their children will realize that their penchant for naked selfies and long dark hair are in fact their parents fault.
For the past couple of days I have been spending some time at a hospital watching my mom sleep. As a cancer patient, who is at the whim of the B.C. Health Care System (Universal Health Care…. we have to love it as Canadians) my mom has been pumped up full of morphine in order to mask the effects of an awful disease that has yet to be treated. This has led her to a shit tonne of sleeping. I have had the awkward pleasure of watching her do that because there really is nothing else to do in that room other than stare at her roommate who likes to listen to his Sony Walkman and snore.
There are two main things that I have reflected on about my personality whilst reflecting on myself in the face of morphine.
#1: My mom hates people helping her. Therefore, I hate people helping me.
#2: My dad hates it when people don’t help him. Therefore, I hate it when people don’t help me.
You can see where the confusion lay. As I said to my brother today as we were getting our third dose of caffeine, “it’s no wonder we are both so fucked up.”
Please don’t think that I am blaming my parents for who I am or the limitations I may have. Absolutely not. What I am saying is that their actions/personalities have most likely influenced my inability to understand what I actually want, or who I actually am. And, it probably happened to them by their parents, and so on, and so on….
If you think about it, ones parents/caretakers/etc. are the centre of a kid’s world for the most important part of their developing lives. Our morals, our thoughts, our dreams, and our life rules are pretty much determined by the age of 10. For me, what I remember most about my morals were as follows:
“Do not have sex until you are 21.”
“You eat too much.”
“We don’t like Jehovah’s Witnesses.”
Worldy, I know. And none of it stuck. Thank goodness.
But, what I am trying to get at is that I feel like I have had to play the game of “how much should I care” for most of my life.
For example today. My mom is sick, yes. She is entitled to ask for the help she wants. My Dad is not sick. He wants to help my mom. They are divorced. Mom does not want help from him. He says he will do it anyways.
Mom. “We are divorced. We no longer have to do anything for each other.”
Dad. “We are divorced however, I took a vow to be there in sickness and in health.”
Dallas. “Mom, you are totally right. You are divorced and this is what happens. And Dad, I feel the same way about vows. You made a promise, in good times and in bad.”
See, no substance to my response…. because I don’t have my own!
So, the moral of the story today is… Dallas become your own person and stand by what you believe.
I believe in love quite honestly. I believe in dedication. I believe in friendship. I believe in a created family. But I also believe in independence. But what I really see from all of this is a fight for everyone involved. Yes, my mom is sick, but we are all fighting that fucking C-word with her. She calls the shots, and we need to stand by her.. and with her.
There, I made a decision about my morals and myself. I love it when people help me… but under my rules. I don’t like broken promises. I believe in forever.
Until next time…