I wish i could be a good daughter. I have just troubled my parents. they both are old and sick, and i do nothing for them. if my mom cries before me, i cant wipe her tears i cant even talk to her nicely. I always yell at her and my dad. my dad’s sick too but i never lend him a hand at anything. i cant get myself to do that. ill sit in my room and keep thinking i should be doing it but i cant get myself up to do it. still they are very nice they never say anything bad to me and take very good care of me.
my boyfriend is the nicest man on earth. he has tolerated my anger and misbehavior for 7 years and he has been supportive during my depression of 4 years. He is an excellent person, best at every department but i don’t trust him. he suffers a lot at my hands because of this and lot many things, like my anger. because of me he has no life of his own.
I am not doing well at studies too. i am giving an exam for last two years and not able to pass it. So cant even get a job because of that.
i have let down each and ever one in my life. I have no friends, not that people didn’t want to be friends with me but i never kept in touch with anyone and eventually lost everyone. my relatives have stopped asking about me too since i long stopped attending family gathering.
i am 23 years old. in my country children live with their parents even after marriage. i will be married off and will have to go and live with my husband’s parents in his house. i cant help my parents in any chores and my husband’s parents will be expecting me to do every chore in the house. i cant. means there will fights everyday and even possibility of my husband throwing me out of the house because i am good for nothing. and in my country its very difficult to survive as a woman who is alone.
i have done nothing for my parents or my boyfriend. i haven’t done anything for my friends. no one ever asked me for help too since i have nothing to offer anyone.
i wanted to be someone, work hard and be the son that my parents never had. make them proud. but instead i have turned into a daughter they wished they never had.
8 comments
anu,
boy that sucks! i hate your country!!! where is it? you should be able to live your own life! and be who ever you are! i’d like to hear more about you and your country if you like to talk i’ll be your friend!
recycling1000 @yahoo.com. 🙂
You’ve made some harsh judgments about yourself and I don’t think anything you have described makes you a bad person.
Depression doesn’t make you a bad person; it’s just something to deal with.
I’m betting you would never judge anyone as harshly as you’re judging yourself so you might try loving yourself as you would love your neighbour.
I like the warning “Judge not least you be judged†which implies that rendering judgment requires skill. We all judge, judging is important… this behaviour is helpful, that behaviour isn’t, this personality trait feels right this one is getting in the way, this person actions hurt me so I need distance…. doing so skillfully is difficult thus the warning. Be careful how you judge especially yourself.
Judging yourself as wholly bad based on a single event or personal attributes is not helpful, you are more than the sum of your parts.
From experience I can tell you that when you’re depressed it’s very difficult to judge skillfully so try to reframe from taking them as absolutes.
I don’t believe in coincidences so your statement at the end that you have worked really hard at “being the son your parents never had†is likely at the root of your depression. You wrote that for a reason! It’s time to let it go; it’s not helpful to you or your parents.
@ rocket man : i don’t think u have got the right to hate my country. i love my country. its given my people so much. my culture its very rich and very nice. my country, my culture not a problem.. bad people, bad world is the problem. and they can be found anywhere not just in my country.
i am sure your country must have problems too.. just our countries have different problems. u are used to living with problems in your country and i am used to living with problems in mine. So when we look at other countries problems and we are not use to it, it feels “how can these people live like this?” Believe me we have the same question for your country people too. but it doesn’t mean your country/culture is bad. its just… un familiar.
@left22
You didn’t judge.. anything. Nor anyone. You practice what you preach. i think i will only be a bad employee, girlfriend, bad mother, bad daughter, bad partner, bad citizen. Because i can do nothing. I have no actual skill or capacity to in real sense contribute to this world. i don’t want to suicide, i believe in God and i know He wont like it. So i just want to give up everything and become a monk. i probably wont be good at it too, but God will forgive i am sure. He will ALWAYS forgive. people wont
Any culture that views one sex as inherently more or less valuable than the other, is a bad culture.
While I don’t believe what you say about your lack of skill and capacity, if you want to become a monk–go for it! Though, as a fair warning, I’ve never been able to communicate with any god about anything…
Anu, I’d like to offer helpful advice, but I can’t think of anything useful to say. I guess I’ll just say I’m really sorry you feel so awful about yourself and your life. It sounds like you suffer from depression, but I’m not sure what kind of mental health care is available to you. I wish there was something I could do to help.
I guess the only thing I can say is that I think you’re being way more harsh on yourself than you deserve. It’s hard to want to help other people and be useful when you feel miserable. I empathize with your suffering right now. I don’t know how to fix it, but I hear your hurt.
I think I will only be… bad
Pain the mud on our boots weighting us down.
I think I will only be…
The words that lie behind words
I think I will only be…
Words a gravitational force devouring all light.
I think I will only be…
Full of expectations of others expectations.
I think I will only be…
That almost delicious embrace of my wretchedness.
I think I will only be… bad
Bad at everything, bad at that as well, bad a being bad.
Bad at being bad you can only succeed – Open the Door
A poem by Dr. Clarissa Pinkola-Estes
Abre la puerta, Open The Door
“She’s 12 years old, — going on 20-to-life.
She is God at 5 feet tall.
But, abre la puerta,
open the door and let her in.
Give her food.
“Old Florencia lives in the parking garage
at the university, with her bags and packs
on the floor all around.
She washes her 84-year-old body in the sink at the library,
with a piece of flannel from her deceased husband’s pajamas.
Abre la puerta, she is God.
Florencia is God, the God named Florencia.
“Remember that old abuelita,
your grandest grandmother?
how she staggered toward you
on legs so thin? You were just a baby then.
And she smiled all over your infant self,
as you rose young and steaming from the void.
That was God in her abuelita form
crying with joy just to see you.
“Que, que, que, bebebebita!†says the grandmother God.
“Look,†she says, “I opened a door in my belly for your mother.
¡Miré! ¡Look! your mother opened a door in her belly for you.â€
Ah, this grandmother, you can see God through her.
God is a grandmother.
“Remember that red room where you grew?
That was God.
Remember the warm hands that received you?
That was God.
Remember your father’s hands holding your face
As though it were a jewel?
In that moment, God shone through.
“Maria Martinez tells me she dreams of chickens made larger
when she cannot find shelter.
She licks her hands, “and they taste good,†she says.
She is God.
God is homeless, yet she has hope.
Abre la puerta, let her in.
“Your mate who snores, well, maybe God snores.
Your mate is God who can never find his socks.
Your lover who burns for things you cannot give,
your mate is God.
God is a housewife in mud-face and curlers
standing at the door in a housecoat
waving good-bye.
God wears a housecoat once in a while.
“Oh world who is young, and has loved so deeply,
and been so betrayed,
whose skin hangs like rags,
whose arms have no muscle,
whose eyes have lost luster —
Open the door of your heartache,
step through the door of your betrayal,
pass through the hole in your heart,
Pass through!
It is a door.
¡Abre la puerta!
Open the door…
“Oh the world is a thing whose lover disappoints,
who is tired of the news that is no news,
who toils for silly people doing silly things.
Pass through the eye of the needle that shreds your skin.
¡Abre la puerta! it is a door.
Your only hope — step through the break in your own broken heart.
¡Abre la puerta! open the door.
“Do you remember that your legs are el anillo,
the ring that circles your lover?
Your legs make a door.
Pass through the door.
¡Abre la puerta! pass the bolt through.
Open the door, the most sacred of doors,
the trail through your belly
The road up your spine.
“Remember, fire is a door.
Destruction is a door.
Song is a door.
A scar is a door.
¡Abre la puerta! Open the door!
“The forest on fire is a door.
The ocean ruined is a door.
Anything that needs us,
or calls us to God
is a door.
¡Abre la puerta!
Open the door.
Anything that hurts us,
anything we make holy
opens the door.
¡Abre la puerta!
pass through the door!
“All those years of seeming indestructibility,
and then, the grandfather of your world dies;
…his heart explodes,
and yours breaks into a thousand pieces.
Each tiny piece of your shattered heart is a door…
These are doors…
Open the doors…
Abre la puerta …
Pass through these doors.
“Whatever has died and left its big muddy boots
cold and hard by the back porch door —
put them on…
Walk through the door of this death,
the door that dying has made for you.
Walk in those boots that bend with your warmth.
You are the grandfather now.
You are the grandmother now.
¡Abre la puerta!
Open the door.
“The world is a tribe of one-breasted women …
walk through the doors of the scars on their chests.
¡Abre la puerta! open the door.
Over the edge of the world you go,
into the abyss we all march in time.
Put the best medicine in the worst of the wounds.
¡Abre la puerta! open the door.
“The lake in which you almost drowned?
That is a door.
The slap in the face that made you kiss the floor?
That is a door.
The betrayal that sent you straight to hell?
That is a door
¡Abre la puerta! open the door.
“Same old story, all strong souls first go to hell
before they do the healing of the world
they came here for.
If we are lucky, we return to help
those still trapped below.
¡Abre la puerta! open the door.
¡Abre la puerta! open the door.
Hell is a door that is caused by pain.
“Opening a flower,
rain opening the earth,
the kisses of humans
opening the hearts of the world,
These are doors…
No further lamentation required…
¡Abre la puerta! open the door.
“The scar drawn by razors…
that is a door.
The scars drawn by chain saws across forests…
those are doors.
These all are doors,
¡Abre la puerta! open the doors.
“The poem of New Life that comes every dawn,
the soaring of sun…that is a door!
The grave is a door.
The door to hell is a door to Life.
¡Abre la puerta! open the door.
¡Abre la puerta! open the door.
¡Abre, abre la puerta! open the door.â€