And I thank God that I wasn’t.
My parents are relatively, cooly, “old school.”
All those stupid rules. No boys over, curfews, when I can put on make-up, what can I wear, where can I go, how I should act, grades, respect, boundaries, etc. — “UGH, I’m a teenager let me do everything!”
I LOVE my family. Trust me, I went through a phase too where I hated my parents. Did you read my testimonial post? OH LORDY. And I still look back and think, “Oh gosh, how’d they put up with that?”
It’s a situation of, “What came first, the chicken or the egg?” Is my family perfect for me because they created me? Or was I created to be part of this family?
I’m not only talking about my amazing mom and dad and stellar sister and brother-in-law. I’m talking also about my aunts and uncles and cousins (I’m Mexican, by the way, so imagine like, 100 people.) Each of us is so unique and different yet all of our morals, ethics, and loyalties ring the same bell. The joy and the pride that I have about that just floods me with emotion when I think about it. Its overwhelming and makes me feel like I’ll never truly be alone. There are other people like me.
My parents have always encouraged me to know and acknowledge what is right and wrong. They have always instilled in me that whoever is shitty doesn’t matter, and just move on and do your thing. They have always taught me that spite gets you nowhere and it looks bad, anyway. They have taught me that life is not fair but if you continue doing what you are supposed to, you will get what you deserve. Grudges and hating people are stupid. Passions and dreams are things to apply hard work towards. People are great yet, they’ve always acknowledged that there is probably a side that we will never understand about life and we probably aren’t meant to. Like, things actually do happen for a reason.
TRUST ME, my parents are not perfect. Maybe they made all of this up just to get me to shut up.
But I can’t help but thank God that I have them. Maybe because they’ve raised me, they know exactly what to say and what I need to hear, sometimes even if it hurts. They apply just enough pressure and care to the wound to ensure me that yes, I will be okay, the bleeding will stop, and they will be there to hold my hand meanwhile. And it gets me through another day.
Yeah, I’m almost 30 years old, unmarried, no children, independent but so dependent on parental support.
And rest in peace to my amazing abuelita, Jesusita, who without fail would always tell me what I needed to hear even though it wasn’t what I wanted to, and she always had the same delicacy and care in her words that my parents do now (it makes rough news easier to digest for me.) I love and I miss her so much and I think of her so often. She was seriously my mother Teresa and Maya Angelou. I give a lot of my compassion and empathy muscles’ strength to her. She would make me look at things like no other person. I miss her….
Just thank you, Lord. This is all a blessing.
Led by faith, not by sight,