“I grew up in India where a woman got married, settled down, and kept a house. I never thought I’d do anything different. I lived a very sheltered existence. I went to a British school, then a women’s college, and then I met my husband. I assumed that I’d be taken care of for the rest of my life. But shortly after we came to America, my husband slipped into a coma and lingered for another 15 years. We had a small child at the time. I’d never worked before, except for a part-time job in the bookshop at the Met. I was a very quiet person. And suddenly I had to make all of the decisions. I had to get a full-time job. It was empowering. I learned that I could be fearless, I could be angry, and I could fight. These were three things that I’d never had to do before. I was thinking recently that if my husband had lived, he might not have liked who I’ve become.” — Humans of New York
I can’t say why, but that last sentence really hit me. We are all a product of our experiences and of the people we interact with in life. Yet we all have our demons: regrets, lost chances, not being true to oneself. Will I grow up to be someone others can be proud of? That my family can be proud of? And how do my own selfish desires fit into that? It troubles me that so much of what I want has to do with removing myself from my parents. I think it’s selfish and ungrateful, but I don’t think I can grow anymore with them. But I hope that the person I do grow into is someone they can be proud of.
