“Your marriage must be going well,”
a senior colleague said to me. I answered.
“It’s not that great, we live together more out of duty and loyalty. But I feel sorry for my husband when I see him working hard from early morning to support family.”
“That’s love,” the senior said.
After my loving mother passed away, I decided to think of my mother-in-law as my own mother. But that was a mistake. My mom never woke me up when I was sleeping. She worried I might get sick because I was weak. She gave me herbal medicine regularly to keep me healthy.
But my mother-in-law? She never gave me anything like that. Instead, she would say,
“Why are you so weak? Why do you sleep so much?”
She didn’t like how I would rest while the kids played outside. Maybe because she was always healthy and never stopped working, she thought I was just being lazy. Even if she didn’t love me, she could have at least felt sorry for me, struggling to run a household with little money. But she didn’t.
If I don’t get enough sleep, I get sick. When I’m tired, I get dizzy from vertigo and can’t digest food well. I stay sick for several days. That’s why I can’t sleep wellat other people’s houses and always go to bed early when I travel.
After my dear father passed away, I started to expect from my husband what my father used to give me.
Thankfully, my husband doesn’t wake me up either. He’d rather let me sleep well than see me sick. He’s not as gentle as my dad was, but he does try not to upset me. Maybe he feels a little sorry that I’ve gone through so much being married to him.
When my younger sister was single, I worried about her a lot—if she was doing okay, if her relationship was going well. But now, she’s married to a great and capable husband and has a daughter. She’s living well, so I don’t worry anymore. My younger brother is doing even better than all the sisters, so there’s no need to worry about him either.
For a while, I tried to feel my mom’s love through my older sister, who came to the U.S. later in life. I made a lot of effort to grow close to her.
But one day, I realized something: My sister already has someone she trusts more than anyone—God. Why was I trying to fill that space?
Looking back, I now see that my involvement in her life wasn’t helpful. It might have made things harder for her. I feel sorry for that.
When my father was alive, I used to call him in Seoul whenever I had a problem. He always gave me wise advice, which made life easier.
Sometimes, I would complain to him about people, and he would say,
“Worry about yourself. Just live your life well.”
But after he passed away, I forgot his words and got too involved in others’ lives.
I’ve come to realize that being too interested in others can become nosiness. It annoyed people and brought me nothing good. What have I gained by interfering in other people’s lives? Instead of poking around here and there, I should just stay calm and be kind to my husband.
Starting this new year, that’s what I’ll do.