Someone once told me, “The sooner you realize you’re just going to become your parents, the quicker you’ll save yourself from an identity crisis.”
I’ve come to realize how true that statement is, no matter how hard I try to avoid it. Without knowing, I’ve become the nagger my mom always was for me. I’m impatient and impulsive. I find myself unable to sit still when I watch someone I care deeply potentially take a step in the wrong direction, so I nag some more. And (un)luckily, like my mom, I got a temper-pedic heart that softens when anything comes at it.
Like my dad, I’m swayed by adventure, always peering across the field to see how green someone else’s grass is. And yet, the best adventure is only the best adventure for now because there’s always the next best adventure awaiting. I’ve taken on dad’s knack for big dreamin’ but when you dream of jumping that far, you also bring along dad’s self-doubt and insecurities for the ride.
But what kicks all of these other traits’ ass is both my parents’ strength to survive. It’s that strength that kept my mom working 3 jobs as a single parent raising 2 kids. It’s that strength that kept my dad afloat in a foreign country when it seemed like the ground was being ripped from beneath him.
I guess I can’t control what’s been absorbed already. What’s done is done and I’m accepting the fact that I’m just a freakish compilation of my mom and dad. But, if there’s still more to soak in, I’d like to request osmosing the shit out of their unwavering strength plz.
My parents are pretty cool. I guess being like them is ok.