It has come to my attention that my children are grown men.
The results of the past couple months have hurt my heart and broken my back, but I’ve learned a few things about other people’s responsibilities and the futility of guilt. This has been a hard thing to learn, but I now know that I am not responsible for the things that belong to others–not to my children, family or friends. I’ve never understood the mindset of “take” and I’m not really interested in trying. What’s important is that I no longer feel the compulsion to martyr myself to help others. I now give everyone I know the freedom to figure out their own problems and come up with their own solutions.
I have learned that no matter what mistakes I’ve made in the past, no matter how badly I fucked up, that really is past and no longer relevant. It is not necessary to perpetually pay for things that are done and gone. So, sorry to my children that I raised you in a single parent household, that I was not successful by society’s standards of wealth, and that I lost my temper, made some poor judgment calls and all the rest. I tried my best. You may not have had the best of everything, but you grew up with straight bones and full bellies. And with that, I am ready to move on. The rest is up to you.
So for now, I will try to heal my bones and concentrate on the rest of my life. I have a wonderful art project bubbling in my brain and I can’t be interrupted.