This morning, as I was taking a long hot shower only proper to a cold, rainy and gloomy November morning, I decided to listen to Vivaldi’s Four Seasons. My favourites are Summer and Winter so, as I was cleansing myself, the superb tunes and notes followed along the way. (I know!, call me a posh bitch for listening to classical music at seven thirty in the morning).

As I listened to the music, it hit me: it’s due to my father that I know all these pieces. He showed them to me when I was little and, even more, I watched him listen to them and to many others. Then, as I was taking the hair that fell during the shower out of the drain, it hit me again: it’s due to my mother that I am so tidy and know bits and secrets about organizing a house and keeping it clean.

You see, for the past couple of months, well, since I moved back home, actually, I’ve had this internal battle regarding my parents: why they are how they are, why they are not how they are not, why they say what they say and why they do what they do. As a curly hair girl wants straight hair and as a straight hair girl wants curly hair, I wanted the opposite of what I had.

I imagined how fun it would have been to have outgoing, adventurous parents, I imagined how much confidence I would have had if my mother had praised me more as a kid and I imagined how artistic I would have been if my father had supported me more in that direction. If I had seen or heard of a hippie parent, I would have wanted such a parent. If I had heard of a family of aristocrats, I would have wanted that. If I had heard of a family of six or of a family with many cousins and aunts and uncles, I would have wanted that. Anything, please, anything, but not what I have.

The struggle grew stronger and stronger as I realized that I cannot change my parents: not their behaviors, not their ideas, not their pasts or their families. I loved them and was very annoyed by them at the same time. My internal struggle was real: I was blaming myself for not liking them, I was blaming myself for caring so much about their opinions, I was blaming them for their thoughts and actions and I was blaming them for not understanding me as I felt I needed to be understood. I felt alone and abandoned, I felt unloved and unappreciated. The funny thing is that they never abandoned me, they never not loved me and they never under appreciated me whatsoever.

So, what was going on? Well, using the mirror technique, a method that states that the thing or behavior you are most annoyed or irritated by in someone else is the same thing you cannot stand in yourself, I managed to shed some light on the case. Yes, I was my biggest critic, not my mother. Yes, I was as anxious and easily irritable like my father. And yes, I did not like those aspects in myself, as I didn’t like them in my parents. Moreover, I abandoned myself, I under appreciated myself and I sure as hell didn’t love who or what I was.

Having discovered this, my journey continued. I realized that some of the things I like most in myself are because of them: I like that I am scrappy, independent and self sufficient due to my mother. Yes, her sometimes Spartan methods may not have been the best solution for my hypersensitive soul, but the end result is that I know how to read and follow some instructions, I know my way around the house and I can cook a pretty decent meal. Thinking of my dad, yes, he is annoying at times and I feel that he doesn’t completely understand my spiritual side, but he is always, I mean, always ready to help me, he is my biggest supporter. The parts that I most like about myself are those related to culture and general knowledge, books, movies, actors and music: he was my Jedi and I was the Padawan, he was the master and I was the apprentice.

When I first heard of the idea that souls choose their parents even before conception, I said to myself that the idea is a big pile of bullshit. If that were true, why don’t we all choose healthy, wealthy, open minded, outgoing, intellectual, easy going people as our parents? Well, because maybe the soul knows better than the mind. Maybe our souls know the lessons we have to learn and who has to teach them to us. Who knows how I would have turned out if I had what my mind considers the ideal parents? Maybe it all would have been just fine or maybe not. The point that I’m trying to make is that we should all start appreciating what we have and stop focusing on what we don’t have. Start seeing the good in people and situations and stop living in the made up life our minds, society, movies, books and TV shows tend to induce upon ourselves. I know the grass tends to be greener in the scenario we make in our minds, but that’s all that it is: a scenario. You have to actually live it to see if it’s good.

So, instead of living in scenarios and what-ifs, let’s be the main character in the show that is our life. Instead of dreaming of a royal flush we might get in the next round, let’s play that full house we already have. Instead of wishing for a better mother or father or partner or child, a better friend or roommate or sister or brother, let’s see the good in the close ones we already have. “Happiness can be found even in the darkest of times, when one only remembers to turn on the light.” Let’s turn on the light, the switch is right there, it only needs one press.

So, yes, I have ideal parents because they are my parents, they are real flesh and blood human beings, not scenarios or prototypes in my head. And, as the song goes: You can’t always get what you want/ But if you try sometime you’ll find/ You get what you need.” I needed them to become what I am today. And, as days go by, I’m beginning to really like who I am and starting to be really proud of myself.