Saturday, May 12, 2018
The OTHER Day
I'm not mad at my kids. I'm not mad at the Hunk. I want to speak a truth most folks don't want to speak. Many, many years ago our family was in counseling. We'd been in counseling for quite some time. One afternoon, our counselor turned to me and said, "You don't seem very happy. What's on your mind?"
And for once, I told the unvarnished truth. "I feel like if I walked out the door today, none of my family would miss me until they ran out of food or clean clothes."
The counselor turned to my husband and children and asked, "What do you have to say about that?"
And they all agreed it was true.
That was a turning point for me. That was the day I finally realized other people--no, not even your husband or children--will not value you, if you don't value yourself. If you sit back and allow them to walk all over you, treat you like a rug (a tattered, filthy rug), then that's what you'll get. People like to say you have to earn respect, but my friends, you can't earn it by groveling.
I cannot tell you how many posts I've read on social media where women are moaning about not receiving cards or flowers or blah, blah, blah for Mother's Day. Their kids don't call. They don't write. Oh, woe is me.
I don't remember the last time I received a Mother's Day card. Sometimes they call. Sometimes they send me a nice posting on Facebook. And that's all okay. BECAUSE it's an artificial holiday. What I need from them isn't some big deal on one day a year. I want them to send me a quirky card for just because. I want them to call me because they want to talk to me. I want them to send me pictures or pages my grandkids have colored for me.
One day does not a relationship make. It's what happens on all the Other Days in our lives that counts.