One of the most painful things I've ever admitted is how poorly I treated my parents for over ten years.
From middle school to a year after graduating from college, the only people I ever had a temper with were my Mom and Dad.
Even though I was often a ball of sunshine with my friends, I was cranky and short-tempered at home.
There were days I was downright ballistic.
I didn't know how to process my inner fears, insecurity, and pain, so I found every excuse to dump my anxiety on the two people who loved me the most.
They didn't deserve any of it, and there was nothing I felt more guilty about.
In August 2018, I truly became present with how much guilt I had been holding.
I knew, deep down, that if I didn't take responsibility for how I treated them and commit to rebuilding our relationship, I would go to my grave with my inaction as my biggest regret.
So I wrote them a letter with tears streaming down my face, committing to treat them better, express my appreciation, and be in their lives.
I read it out loud over the phone and cried my eyes out, allowing myself to have tears for the first time in a decade.
With that 18-minute conversation, ten tons of weight that I wasn't aware I was carrying vanished.
It was as if the doors to the rest of my life opened up.
I was finally free.
