selfish

Dictionary.com defines the following:

self·ish

   [sel-fish]  Show IPA

adjective

1.

devoted to or caring only for oneself; concerned primarily with one's own interests, benefits, welfare, etc., regardless of others.

2.

characterized by or manifesting concern or care only for oneself: selfish motives.

The reason I'm talking about it?  Because that's what I was called today.  I scoffed at it when I heard it.  I actually laughed inside and thought that I had been called worst things.  But to see this definition here...well, it sucks to see it, but I don't think I can deny the truth of it.  I shrug my shoulders and accept it.  What more can I do?

I'm sentimental.  I keep things for sentimental reasons.  I have not thrown away my cancer files yet because I am not ready.  [Although, they may have been thrown out already, in which case, I can go back to being bent out of shape because I am selfish.]  I have many things that are the kids things (notes/pictures they've drawn me, things they've made, etc.) because they did those things.  Hell, I even found a box of rose petals that came from a bouquet that he had given me in years past.  Well, if I were actually organized, I would have a spot for all those things.  Unfortunately, life happens and with that, I don't get organized and it gets everywhere.

My basement is full of stuff.  You can still see the floor, but there's stuff everywhere.  I get in moments where I do go down there and clean it up.  Those moments are few in between.  I don't deny telling him to go down there and just start cleaning...I just don't think I told him to start going through my stuff and throwing my things out.  Why?  Because I wouldn't say something like that because I know how I am.  But of course, that's what happened.  And yes, I'm upset.  I'm furious.  I could care less about the work stuff that gets thrown out, I'm mad because of the things that are sentimental to me.

And let me preface this with this:  I am extremely emotional right now.  Hormonally I am a train-wreck just by that.  But truly, I've been sad all day because it's my grandfather's birthday.  I had a rough time with N today as he was emotional and sad, which is not like him.  My mother is ill and can't really take care of E anymore.  Saturday is E's second birthday, which means it's been five years for me.  Five frickin' years.  I had thought that at some point, these anniversaries, or birthdays as they call it, would get easier.  It doesn't.  I had thought that it would just be always be happy because it is E's birthday and I am so glad that it's her day..but I'm selfish, so of course, I would cast a shadow on that.  I'm bitter right now.  I'm angry.  Frustrated.  Tired.  Selfish.

Every year, around this time, I fall apart.  Dammit.  I don't expect pity.  I expect understanding.  But instead, I usually get the 'get over it' thing, it's been x years now.  It ain't that easy.  I hold on to things because I fear never having the chance again of having A write me note or N to draw me a picture or E to trace her hand.  I fear that the ticket stubs to that Tigers game that imprints the great day we had with the kids will forever be lost because I can't pull those memories because I can't remember and need the triggers of these little things to help me.

Gahh.  This post is totally everywhere.  That's how I feel but I suppose that doesn't help me with much.  I started this off to laugh at the notion that I was selfish.  Me, selfish?  Really?  I don't do much for myself, I don't know how to be by myself when I have time for myself, I try to make everyone happy.  Awesome to know that that equates to being selfish.  Obviously it's time to go back to therapy.  I'm totally screwed up.  I actually felt good a few days ago because I thought that I was headed in the right direction.  Yeah, good joke on me, right?  Actually, since I wrote this whole post about me, guess it must be true.  Because if I really cared about someone outside of myself, I wouldn't spent this whole time talking about me.