What do you want from me?
source unknown – sorry
I should be sorry for running my own race. For not caring what you are doing, or trying to keep up with all the things you are doing, the Joneses must be an amazing bunch. For not living outside our means just to keep up appearances. For not whinging long and loud and clearly that its just all too hard and woe is me. I should be sorry, for not feeling like life is horrible and annoying and hard and hurtful.
It is… it is horrible and hard and hurtful. It is sad. It is illogical, and catches us so that we can’t breathe and can barely stumble. It is unbearable sadness, and unbearable lightness. The Joneses are all in your head – at the end of the day no one really cares, let alone notices. Its just stuff. And life, life isn’t all about stuff – definitely not stuff you can buy.
I should be sorry for not having endless patience. For not sitting and coddling and mothering. I should be sorry for not taking more notice and celebrating your smugness. I should be sorry for not being competitive so one of us could come out on top and be ‘better’. For not reacting how you expect. For not sharing my success so you can ride on the tails. For not saying what you think I should. For not backing down. For not giving in.
But, what good is giving up my integrity? I am the one who has to live with myself, and sleep with myself each night. I’m not entering into the playground games. Im just not willing to give up the freedom I have in being authentic to myself, regardless of what that looks like. Competition and smugness serves no one well.
I should be sorry for having a messy house. For having baskets of washing hanging out to be ironed for the better part of weeks. For not cooking dinner every single night, and packing smorgasbord lunches every single day. For not having boundless energy. For doing what we want to do, and nothing else. For having a fish tank that is full of water, with no fish.
Okay, so the fish tank thing is just plain amusing, and a great symbol that we are so full and rich in our friendships and lives that we don’t get to the shops to buy the blinking fish. Whatever. Same with the messy house and the ironing. I’d rather have a messy house, and the biggest mount fold more in the south west of Sydney than sacrifice the fullness and richness of our relationships and our lives. Cooking dinner every night would mean we wouldn’t know everyone at Italian by name, and we wouldn’t laugh at all the crazy people in the main street, and their stretch sausage dogs.
I should be sorry for not getting high distinctions in every subject I tackle. I should be sorry for not getting my targets every single month. For sometimes being so distracted in beauty and showing my love that sometimes our savings gets spent. I should be sorry for us taking so many holidays. I should be sorry that you don’t always like what i have to say, that my blog isn’t always that interesting, or that this post didn’t take your fancy.
I should be sorry that it’s not good enough for you.
I should be sorry that I’m not everyone’s perfect.
but I’m so not.
I’m thankful that I am imperfectly perfect.
That I am loved.
That I am so flawed, as there is beauty and genius in those flaws. That I am achieving amazing things, that I never thought I could do. That the sense of achievement I feel is there, because I slogged out every single baby step of the way. That I am a work in progress. That I build up lifers for friends, not billions of people who only know my name. That my writing is so hodge podge random, because that is reflective of my life and adventure. That I am full of laughter and light.
That I am me.
So, I don’t really care what you want from me.
Because this is who I am.
PS. Click on the neigh. Read more strong amazing courageous womens sorry (or not) posts. Leave them comments, acknowledge their strength and their vulnerability, all of which is simply beautiful. Stop. Reflect. Breathe.