Looking Back With Open Eyes
Reflections on mistakes made, love missed, and the chance to share it again…
Looking back on my life—starting from when I was a kid—things were never easy. School was a struggle for me. English wasn’t my first language, and on top of that, I had an undiagnosed learning disability. I often felt like I was trying my best but still falling behind. I didn’t know why things were harder for me, and no one else seemed to understand either. On top of that, I was bullied. I felt out of place a lot of the time, like I didn’t belong, like I had to fight just to be seen or heard.
As I got older, I went from job to job, trying to build a better life for myself and my family. I worked hard—sometimes too hard. I was always focused on survival, on the future, on making sure we were okay. I was exhausted most of the time, stressed out, and constantly pushing myself. Because of that, I know I could seem cold or distant, like I didn’t care. But the truth is, I cared deeply—I was just overwhelmed. I was scared of failing, scared of not being good enough, scared that everything I worked for could fall apart.
Even though I made mistakes, I also gave a lot of myself to others. I was there for people—whether it was helping financially, offering emotional support, or just being someone they could rely on during hard times. I didn’t always know how to say the right words, but I tried to show up in the ways I could.
Still, when I look back, I carry regrets. I wish I had spent more time with my kids. I wish I had been more present, more patient, more open. I know I hurt people along the way—not because I wanted to, but because I didn’t know how to deal with everything I was carrying. Back then, I didn’t know how to say, 'I’m sorry.' I didn’t know how to ask for help. I was just trying to keep it all together.
There’s one small moment I always think about—when my poodle was barking outside my bedroom door, just wanting to be with me, and I didn’t let him in. It seems so minor, but it stuck with me. He just wanted love, and I turned him away. Now I realize, there were many times when love was right in front of me, and I couldn’t see it—or I pushed it away.
I carry these memories with me—not to dwell in guilt, but to understand and grow. I can’t change the past, but I want the people I hurt to know: it wasn’t because I didn’t love you. I just didn’t know how to show it. I truly am sorry.
The love has always been there, and it’s still in me now. I feel it more clearly than ever—and I want to share it. With those I’ve hurt. With those I’ve missed. With anyone still willing to receive it. My heart is open now.
