I wish I could say that I’m just now learning or that this next part is news to me but if I’m going to be honest, then it is being brought to my attention again would be a more accurate description of the fact that I cannot talk to everyone. Not everyone gives a shit nor does everyone listen without passing judgment. There are countless times when I can utter these words but particularly in this case, I can say with great emphasis, I miss my mother so much.
I could speak to my mama about anything and everything. I could do so confidently, securely and without feeling like I wanted to take back everything I just revealed to her afterward as I have felt with so many others. It doesn’t take rocket science to notice that I am an open book and I often wear my heart on my sleeve, and I do so with candor, humility, and frequent eagerness.
I think this could stem all the way back to that “golden rule” that was drilled into me from a young age, “Do unto others as you would have done unto you.” I suppose it’s also the idealist in me believing that everyone will respect my willingness to share, will see that my intentions come from a pure and almost childlike place. As I admit that, I immediately call bullshit, the inner voice viciously scolding my naïvete.
Some of which I choose to share are things that most thirty-one year olds have never experienced. And some of the things I choose to share are choices I made that maybe I’m not necessarily proud of but by no means, do I regret. I rarely ever give myself credit where credit is due but in the last few months I have begun learning how to do so and I’m not about to let someone’s insecurities or fears spoil my progress. Simply put, I have to work on remembering that I owe no one a single explanation for why I do the shit I do or why I did the shit I’ve done.
My past is my past. I come with lots of heavy baggage, baggage that most people my age have yet to experience the weight of. I find it incredibly sad that so many are so quick to judge having never carried around an ounce of what I have carried. So many are so willing to dismiss me simply because I exceed the maximum allotment for a carry-on.
Today on my way home from work I was almost side swiped by a car. My take out tacos went flying across the seat landing on the ground as my brakes stalled my vehicle just in time to avoid a wreck. I escaped thankfully unscathed, though wholly shaken. I needed someone to empathize and tell me it was okay – That I was okay. I crave days gone by when I could pick up the phone, dial my mama’s number and confidently confide in her knowing full well that when we got off the phone, my carry-on might just receive the green light – at least for this flight.