I am the luckiest

When my mom dies and I have to give her eulogy, remind me of this time she brought me Chipotle and a McDonald's hot fudge sundae when I was sick, just because I asked her to. 

hating the help

I wish I had something more profound or thoughtful to say about it, but today, I was forced to take help from my folks. There's only one thing I hate more in the world than admitting that I need it, and that would be accepting it when it's unsolicited.

Nothing makes you feel quite so much like a big, fat failure at life as when you're busting your ass, working a job that makes you miserable - a job that pays you more than you've ever made in your life - budgeting and cutting corners, but you still can't make ends meet because the world just keeps knocking you down. And I know, I know - I'm grateful to just be broke and not poor, but man. I need a break. I need a few breaks. Then today I got one, and it feels terrible.

I know how unbelievably lucky I am to have a family who is able to help, who is willing and happy to help us out. But then the part that's worse than having your dad offer you exactly what you need to get back on your feet, without your even asking? Refusing it (I should be able to do this myself), and being forced to take it anyway, then feeling like the lowest piece of shit ever for seeming like an ingrate.

It's a bitter pill to swallow, being the helpee instead of the helper. I hate it.