What I Could Do Better
Nov. 9th, 2012 04:37 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tinhuvielWhen you boil it right down, I really am a lousy person. I believe we were all put on this Earth to learn a particular lesson, not for ourselves, but for the shattered puzzle that is spread in shards across the universe, gathering the data it needs to figure itself out, when each shard returns to the source. I also believe that, and history bears me out here, if you fail to learn a lesson, you're doomed to repeat the same mistakes until you get it right.
I'm selfish.
I want things my way. And I want them NOW.
That kind of behaviour has doomed me to suffer the same grief over and over again.
I remember as a kid of around five, the Mother Unit instructed me to feed the orphaned blue jay every 30 minutes. I thought The Flintstones was more important. The bird was dead when I finally made my out to the cage. I lost my patience with Granny, and Henry, as their health glaringly failed. I caught myself thinking of how much easier it would be if they were just GONE. Than that was all I could think of when they had left me. I'd wished them dead.
Did I learn my lesson from my selfishness and self-importance?
No.
I found myself doing the same thing with Aunt Tudi. I found her to be a burden a lot of the time. Having to deal with her fluids was unbearable to me. I've always had a problem with human emissions. Animals are fine, but I won't even drink after a person. In her last few months, Aunt Tudi disgusted me and I prayed for it to end.
And end it did. And I'm alone with all those thoughts of how I could have been a better relative, companion, person. This is the main reason I refuse to abandon the animals, even though lingering here is like subjecting myself to a slow soul death. The didn't ask to be born. All they know is that they love me and I love them. I don't think they realise how precarious their living arrangements were there for a while.
There's a lot I cannot do better. It's too late. Only the guilt remains, the living of the issues over and over, knowing there's no hope of forgiveness, because I can't forgive myself first. The one thing I can do better is not run from my responsibilities I have the two dogs and the the two cats. I may die here in miserable solitude, bereft of any kind of hope, and with a black chasm in my heart where the memories of my failures finally ate me from the inside out, but I will have lived up to my responsibilities to Chester, Toby, Smidgen, and Seedling.
I'm selfish.
I want things my way. And I want them NOW.
That kind of behaviour has doomed me to suffer the same grief over and over again.
I remember as a kid of around five, the Mother Unit instructed me to feed the orphaned blue jay every 30 minutes. I thought The Flintstones was more important. The bird was dead when I finally made my out to the cage. I lost my patience with Granny, and Henry, as their health glaringly failed. I caught myself thinking of how much easier it would be if they were just GONE. Than that was all I could think of when they had left me. I'd wished them dead.
Did I learn my lesson from my selfishness and self-importance?
No.
I found myself doing the same thing with Aunt Tudi. I found her to be a burden a lot of the time. Having to deal with her fluids was unbearable to me. I've always had a problem with human emissions. Animals are fine, but I won't even drink after a person. In her last few months, Aunt Tudi disgusted me and I prayed for it to end.
And end it did. And I'm alone with all those thoughts of how I could have been a better relative, companion, person. This is the main reason I refuse to abandon the animals, even though lingering here is like subjecting myself to a slow soul death. The didn't ask to be born. All they know is that they love me and I love them. I don't think they realise how precarious their living arrangements were there for a while.
There's a lot I cannot do better. It's too late. Only the guilt remains, the living of the issues over and over, knowing there's no hope of forgiveness, because I can't forgive myself first. The one thing I can do better is not run from my responsibilities I have the two dogs and the the two cats. I may die here in miserable solitude, bereft of any kind of hope, and with a black chasm in my heart where the memories of my failures finally ate me from the inside out, but I will have lived up to my responsibilities to Chester, Toby, Smidgen, and Seedling.
