I wouldn’t be here without them.
I don’t just mean that from a biological standpoint; I’m talking about everything that comes after the first f*** – which sadly, some ‘parents’ don’t give a f** about.
Through it all – as in every f** up I’ve made – they’ve been there. I’ve always known safety and support; never the things they’ve seen in their lifetimes. They originated from lesser-privledged countries and worked hard to reach Australia to give my sister and I access to the best opportunities. Which is why I left home for the second time – seeking a better opportunity as well as more responsibility.
Sounds sweet, but I’ll admit to my bitterness before I left. There was shortness, attitude, inconsideration, and even resentment.
I used to tell myself they gave too much – forgetting that:
For one to successfully give, the other has to willingly take.
I took too much; I gave back too little. But I’m also lucky it’s not too late to change my relationship with my parents, rather than being chained to regret.
Now living in a house of strangers in an even stranger state, I realise how much it means when someone asks how your day was; and I take responsibility for how little it means in return to respond with a few blunt words. They supported me financially and emotionally in my decision to move state. Hence why, more than myself, I don’t want to let them down.
I’m typing this because I also come from a house where words don’t always make their way out.. but there are plenty of other gestures of love that go above and beyond.