We Make the Bed, We Lie In Them

We are responsible for the decisions that we make. We are responsible for the aftermath of them as well. Sometimes though, we often forget that with the choices that we make, we are forced to live with them, no matter how much we wish to go and change our minds. The past is something that we can't undo or unravel, knots of macrame that can never be undone, once the knot is tied, it is tied. 

Sometimes regret is a strong force that drives us to do the things that we wouldn't otherwise be driven to do. It causes us to be desperate, it causes us to do things that in our right state of mind we forever would wonder what would happen if we didn't make that choice or decision. 

I could be a liar and say that I don't have those thoughts or feelings. But I'm not. I have those feelings every now and then when I go on Facebook, and discover that my father has created a new and happier life of his own. As I know cutting him out was the best decision for my welfare, I realize that deep down besides the hurt that he has caused, I still wonder about my father. What was he like? Did he enjoy cookies? What qualities of mine were once his? I don't think that this curiosity will ever truly die, however I do know that to keep myself from getting hurt I had to do what I had to do. 

Having a father who was never there had always impacted me. It caused me to think before I trust. It caused me to often wonder if I'm capable of loving or having a person that can love me for good. I wonder if there's an expiration date to my friendships, and relationships, and drive away. I can't shoot at the fear, it's not a piece of game, however, I can try to shrink it. 

My father did what he did for his own reasons. He didn't do it because of me. It took nearly 16 years to realize that, but in the end, I realized that I'm not the reason. 

Because of his impact, I was forced to make a decision. I made the bed, I now lie in it. It's a comfortable bed, a bed that I can safely be comfortable in. However, on days like today, I wonder what would the not so comfortable side of life would have been like. As Sigmund Freud says "Our beds are never empty." In a nonsexual way, he's right. The bed that we make in relation to a current situation would stay with us perhaps the length of a lifetime. They become scars on the blank smooth surfaces of our headboards. Our beds are made, and we choose to lie in them.