Why Your Life Is So Different From Your Parents’

As our lives have changed, we have adopted new values, behaviors, and habits.

I think all of us have a different style, a personality, and a way with people. We all have a different story. My mother had a different life than my father and my sister and I did. I think most of us still have a story we’ve all forgotten, a story we’ll never truly understand.

Here’s what I’ve been trying to figure out. I thought all my life that my mother was just a normal working mom, married to an average family type that raised me in a normal way. But something else seemed to be going on.

She was a very spiritual woman. She did well in school, but she never got the grades she had always wanted. She never got what she really wanted. She was constantly searching for something. In high school she discovered that she was “the reason for the universe.” She started to question everything, and every person she ever met. Her husband was in her life the same way. He also became her teacher and became the one person she could talk to about her story. Through them they found that they weren’t alone.

They found that they all have someone who is searching for them and for those around them. They found that sometimes a person doesn’t even know who he or she is and that there are a bunch of them. They found that life is a game and that everyone has a role to play. It was a huge wake up call. They knew that as long as she was alive, they were going to have a story to tell, one that they could’t tell themselves.

I thought that once their story was told then they would be happy. They would all be together and happy. But it turned out there were more. I learned as they went farther and farther back into the past that someone else’s story will always be there. It doesn’t have to be the reason we are here. It doesn’t have to be a terrible story. If we don’t know who we are, we’ll find someone else to tell our story.

It is amazing but life is a lot easier to understand when we don’t know what another person has gone through to find the same answers. I think that is why every story feels so different. I think everything felt different when I decided to tell my daughter’s story. She wasn’t looking for me to be the one to start telling her story. She knew she had a part of my mom’s story to tell all along. In telling my daughter’s story, I had been writing her a note from my mother. At the same time, I had been writing to my sister, my dad, and myself. These words became words that belonged to me and to my daughter.

It’s not just me, that’s for sure. The words I’m saying are mine and they belong to me. If you ever read my story or think of it and think that I don’t know what I’m talking about, you’re right.