Exactly a week ago I turned 18. My mom had planned a surprise in the city for me and my best friend. We were going to go to lunch at a cute, little tea parlor and see the Blue Man Group in the afternoon. I don’t know why, but I didn’t want to go. I found out the day before what the plans were and was so adamant about not going into the city, that I feel that I missed out on what could have been a fun day full of special birthday memories.
I told my mom I didn’t want to go (I know, what a horrible, awful, wretched daughter tells her mother that she doesn’t want a birthday surprise) and immediately regretted it. But, I couldn’t take back my decision. In the end, my parents went into the city on my birthday to use the tickets and left me at home with my friend and boyfriend. Although we had a nice time, I still feel that I missed out on something special. I wished I could’ve spent my birthday with my mom. I wished I hadn’t hurt her feelings with rejecting what was essentially a very expensive birthday gift. I wished I could have been more rational in my decision making.
As I write this, a fresh wave of guilt is washing over me and I can’t shake it off. It’s been a week and I still can’t get rid of this feeling. I’m only turning 18 once. It was my last birthday at home. Ever. I might be making a mountain out of a molehill and should just get over it, but for right now I can’t.
There was more to this story, but this is all you need to know to get the picture of how I’m feeling right now. I was going to post another generic update about my ride on Angel last week, how there is only a week left until Thanksgiving break, and how I find out about college in one month, but instead I decided to share some deeper feelings.