I Wish I Never Met You

Most days I wake up remembering to be grateful for what I have. To appreciate the fact that we have never once (well, maybe once or twice) had to live out in the streets, abandoned and almost unforgotten. 

Most days.

Some days, I make the mistake of comparing my life and my kids' lives (mostly their lives, because I feel sorry for them for having me as a mother) to others and wishing that there were things that I could have done for them. 

This morning, my son asked for a new phone case because the phone tend to slip out of his fingers sometimes and he was afraid of it falling out of his hands and breaking. It was a reasonable request. But because I've had several bills and payment reminders in the past, and coursing through my mind was the number of stuff that I have to get from the morning market, I lashed out at him for being high maintenance. In reality, my kids are not really high maintenance. In fact, they're really kind, understanding and rather undemanding kids. 

And yet, I find us struggling every month to make ends meet, with companies calling me up every single day (during a particular period of the month) with reminders and threats to discontinue service. It is during this period of the month that I am afraid of my phone and emails. 

I've learned over a long period of time that running away from them is not the solution. They catch up with you sooner or later but my instinct still tells me to run. There's so much stress that I feel a little like bursting at the seams, that I want all of this to end. 

This brings me to that one person that I wish I have never met in my life. But there MUST be a reason that we met somehow, again and again, and again. It doesn't stop me from wishing that I've never met this person, the person who made me feel less than what I am, made me feel terrible, offered no solace, behaved like I was the biggest burden and loved me not one moment of his life. The one person who probably thinks of me as the biggest regret in his life too. 

It's, perhaps, time to close my eyes and try to set things into tiny little drawers in my head. Trying to find a solution for things, drawer by drawer, instead of staring into the abysmal heap of mess that is cluttering my head.