Sometimes you have to be your own hero.
This is one of the more important lessons I’ve learned over the last few years. I have to be my own hero. I have to pick myself up off the floor and get back out there — because nobody else is going to do it.
I have to be happy for myself. I have to make my dreams come true. I am responsible for what happens to me — and gosh, I wish I could have realized this eight years ago.
When someone dies, everyone comes to your aid. They feed you pretty stories about how they’ll be there for you and if you ever need a shoulder they’ll be right there. They pat themselves on the back for doing their part. And when you’re up a creek without a paddle and crying for no reason aside from the fact that you feel alone, they’re gone.
My situation is not unique — people do this all. the. time. Countless family members and so-called “friends” have swooped in every year on the anniversary of losing mom and told me that they loved me and they were “only just a phone call away.” They didn’t realize that while I may have needed someone that particular day, there are still 364 other days in a year. And it never gets any easier, no matter how far away it gets.
I can’t stand people. It’s an emotion I’m coming to grips with, to be honest. I dislike most people for a multitude of reasons — most of which stem from the fact that people usually let me down. My extended family pops in and out when it’s convenient for them. Countless guys have come into the picture, promising to stick around — and yet, when the going gets tough… they get going.
I am not an easy person to be around. My grandmother can attest to this fact. My best friend can attest to this fact. Yet they’ve both stuck by me through this ridiculously long road I’ve been chosen to travel. They’ve both been there when I needed to just cry for absolutely no reason whatsoever. Two people who I love more than words can really articulate — of the ten or twenty (some of them family) who promised they’d be around if I needed them.
I’m done depending on people. It was a realization I came to not so long ago. I’m done depending on family who only talks to me when it’s convenient for them. I’m done depending on guys who will ultimately leave because I’m too much to handle. I’m done depending on those so-called “friends” who like to come in and out of my life at their convenience. I’m just done.
I’m going to be my own hero. And even if the only people I have in my life for the next 20 years are my two best friends, my grandparents, and my uncle Artie, I’ll be doing okay. It’s not the quantity that counts — but the quality. And they are quality people who have shown me just how strong I really am.