Self-Fulling Prophecies
There are too many days where I catch myself asking the question, “Does anyone care?” Of course, I know the answer. I am fortunate not to be friendless. My situation could be worse. I’m thankful I’m not in a hospital bed where my only visitors are nurses making their rounds. Yet. I keep telling myself to be satisfied with what I have and stop wishing for more. I’m old.
I spent part of Monday evening wondering to what extent we’re all self-fulfilling prophecies, even when we don’t want to be. There’s a lot of talk about “the cycle stops here,” referring to generational abuses and bad habits. This is great when we’re talking about how we treat young children. Our abuses don’t have to be there. We can put a stop to that now.
I’m not sure how well we keep it up, though. Sure, some do, but maybe the majority can carry on that desire to set a positive example and not repeat the mistakes of their parents and grandparents. Yet, I look at so many people around me and see repetitions in their behavior that, while not identical to what their parents did, ultimately have the same result. Giving in to false belief systems. Escapism using drugs and/or alcohol. Pushing away the people who care about them. Abandoning relationships because “I’m too busy.” I hear the excuse “I can’t do everything” being said in many different ways. And no, no one can do everything. The challenge is where we choose to spend our time and energy.
Ultimately, we find ourselves in the same position as our parents. What makes the problem more difficult is that we often don’t realize what we’ve done until it’s too late. Our children are more like us than we ever intended for them to be and now we’re stuck with the consequences.
I have imagined since I was young that I would die alone, in a hospital, with no one caring or even aware that I was gone. While I don’t see that day on the near horizon, I see how the stage is set to create that ending. I’m no one’s priority. I’m a burden. I feel guilty and that leads me away from the people I perceive that I’m hurting. As I pull away, others feel abandoned, left alone to “do everything.” Both sides stop caring. Slowly, over the years, everyone drifts away. Some move to other places. Some have lives that take different turns. The messages and the visits dwindle away until finally you’re alone in a hospital. It doesn’t matter how you got there. Maybe you fell. Maybe you were in an accident. There may have been a well-check that found you on the floor. There you are. No one knows you’re there. You no longer know the current number of your emergency contact. Slowly, the breaths grow farther apart until you take the last one. If it weren’t for the annoying sound of the heart monitor, no one would notice.
The question is, what do I do with the time between now and then? Do I try making a difference one more time or do I just give up and wait for the inevitable? Do I have a choice? Trying requires assistance. No one is a purely self-made anything. There has to be someone to help and if there’s not going to be anyone to help then what’s the point in trying?
Yesterday ended up being one of pure nausea. None of the meds seemed to help. When I wasn’t in the bathroom, I was in bed. So no, I didn’t get anything done around the house. I did well to get the dogs outside in time to keep them from pooping in the hallway. I made dinner but only nibbles are missing from the dishes. There are, once again, too many leftovers.
What happens when I’m no longer here? Who lets the dogs out? Who handles dinner? Who feeds the cats? Do chores still get done without yelling? Does music still play on the turntable? Who pulls in the package deliveries left out in the rain?
What happens today? Who reads my posts? Who leaves a comment? Who rolls their eyes and thinks I’m being overly dramatic?
If everyone leaves, what does that say about me? How horrible a person am I?
Today is another day and I’ll try to be better than I was yesterday. Still, the cards seem already drawn.