I don’t know exactly why, but the word “deserve” makes me incredibly angry. Maybe because I imagine it said by a bratty teenage girl who’s trying to convince her parents that she deserves the newest iPhone. It’s got an entitled, uppity attitude that detests what it has and demands more. It’s ungrateful and mean, and usually accompanied with an angry foot stomp.
Perhaps I’ve given it too much of a personality, but I simply cannot stand the word deserve. It’s as if you believe you’ve suffered enough and therefore should be given something more or something better by the universe.
So you can imagine how I might find it troubling when that word’s been sneaking itself into the static of my thoughts.
I’ve been catching myself feeling angry and discouraged with my life, believing I deserve something special. Not only deserve, but I’ve deluded myself into believing I’ve actually earned the chance at having it all. After all, I’m a great daughter, a supportive friend, a reliable sister, a caring nurse, and a patient confidant. I’ve stood by and cheered along with someone else’s happiness and applauded for other’s fortune. I pick up the pieces when someone’s fallen apart, and have gotten left in the dust when they’ve put themselves back together.
Shouldn’t I get a little something in return?
If we’re mostly in favour of the idea of karma, the enduring belief that what goes around will eventually come around, have all of our good deeds been in service of the benefits to our future selves? Maybe the reason good things don’t happen as often as we like because the good we do is actually motivated by selfish reasons. Somehow if I think that fulfilling my social roles and treating others as best as I can will favour the likelihood of a future reward, aren’t I simply just working for my own achievements?
I don’t know.
Sometimes I feel I have it all together, and sometimes I feel emptier than I thought possible. Sometimes I wake up, believing it’s just another day closer to oblivion, and others I can’t believe how lucky I am to live the life that I do. Even with everything I have, I believe I deserve more. What about the hungry and the poor? Don’t they deserve to be fed and sheltered?
I’ve been having a hard time accepting that sometimes, explanations just don’t exist. Things are the way they are, and they may not be any rhyme or reason to it.
So there it is:
I wish I had more. I wish I knew what it felt like to be supported, cared about, and not just being the person who has done the supporting and the caring. I want something meaningful to keep me going. I don’t just want to survive, I want to thrive. I may not deserve it, and I may not have earned it.
But I want it.