Thursday, September 2, 2010

who made you king of anything?

This may or may not be the theme song to my life. And by that I mean, it most definitely is.

All my life I've tried
to make everybody happy
while I just hurt and hide
waiting for somebody to tell me
it's my turn to decide.

I don't mean to say that I feel this way on a constant basis, but it seems to happen quite a lot. There are a handful of people in my life - usually the most important ones - who believe they know better than me. If I had a dollar for every time my parents, someone else in my family, or Mark told me how they think I should handle my life, what they think I should do, I would have a fair amount of money to my name. I wish I were exaggerating.

This also doesn't mean that these people don't mean well or that they don't love me, because they do. I don't wish to shed a bad light upon them - everyone who does it has a thousand shining qualities that outweigh this one pesky, negative one. It's just a bad combination of the way they "help" and the way I react to it.

It probably grew from being raised by parents who worked hard to get where they wanted. My mom tells me stories on how she buckled down and always studied; my dad, though slacking a bit in college, has worked like a dog at several jobs since then. To be honest, I feel like they both embody the attitude of having to work hard and be somewhat miserable to get what you want. They were the reason I picked accounting as my major, when I was applying to colleges and had no idea what I wanted. They were the same reason that I begrudgingly stuck with accounting, despite wanting to change majors as early as sophomore year in college.

The majority of my family has similar opinions - it's less about choosing something I enjoy and more about what will be the "best" for my future. Mark was even worse about it, pushing me when he barely knew me, my goals, or what was "best." Being surrounded by so many people, acting like they know exactly who I am and what I want, is exhausting.

Luckily I have my friends. My four best friends from college pulled me through some heinous moments, listening to me vent about how my parents completely shot down my suggestion to switch majors. How I could feel myself hating it more and more every day. How I didn't understand why my parents couldn't be open-minded and supportive, like all of my friends' parents were when they all made choices and changes.

It's only recently that I've begun to force my own opinion into conversations, talking about dream jobs more realistically and making it clear that I'm not going to be pushed around anymore. And, when possible, I refrain from talking about such topics with people who can't get past what they think I should be doing.

Because it's like Sara says, who cares if you disagree? You are not me.