Excusesman - Creative Nonfiction Prompt
A sedentary and busy life keeps you in hiding and in a cloistered routine. Things that seemed very important to you when you were young, like going out with friends to chat in a square or have a drink in a coffee shop, start to become tiresome and a waste of time. Mostly, you give in to solitude and are satisfied by the benefits it offers until you get overwhelmed and need a sporadic change, but in my case, it was an extraordinary thing. I always needed solitude to keep me on the sidelines and focused; without it, I was like an automaton who indulged in trivial things instead of the priority ones.
At that time, my friends nicknamed me “Excusesman” because I always brought up something to avoid making plans with them. That nickname never hurt me, because it was true that I gave more importance to the priorities in my life, but I tried to improve that when it hurt me with my parents.
“Son, how are you?” My mother would text me. "I was going to call you, but since you always tell me you're busy, I decided to write you. I hope you are well, I love you very much."
That threw me off, and I immediately called her. “ Hi, Mom, sorry I haven't written you, I've had a busy routine,” I told her, but it was just a lie.
“Relax, honey, I just wanted to see how you were, you know, it's your father's birthday soon, and it would be nice if you called him.”
I felt a little bad about the tone in which he was telling me, as if he was begging me not to forget.
“Calm down, Mom, I'm going to do it, I'm going to send him some money so he can buy himself something,” I assured her, and we continued the conversation, talking about other trivial topics.
For me, getting lost in any recreational work activity was so commonplace, my perception of time was broken. My biological clock no longer told me if I was hungry or sleepy, as I broke it with snacks and short breaks throughout the day. I was so passionate about what I was doing that I became a completely different person. And as for my love life, well, you can imagine, it was an empty, old, rotting cellar with no sign at the entrance.
On the days when I was the busiest, I was solicited the most. David, a guy I was once intimate with, suddenly wrote me to see me.
“Hi, how are you, remember me?” he said in a message I read hours later.
“Hi, yes, of course, me very well, how have you been?”
“Fine,” he replied hours later to my message. "I'm going to bed now. I wrote to you earlier to see if we would see each other, but I see that's not possible."
At the time, it didn't seem like a bad idea. I had accumulated a lot of stress lately, and a discharge of intimacy would have been nice, but I was unwilling and didn't want to be rude; I preferred to leave an affable excuse.
"Oh, sorry, I've been very busy, work has gotten heavy, and I haven't had time for anything else. I'll write you, okay?"
“Okay, whatever you say,” was all he said. I sensed sarcasm in that message, but I didn't pay much attention to it.
Things balanced out in my work, but I was always looking for distractions. I had completely lost track of the days, and it was then, that my father's birthday came and went unnoticed. I arrived home exhausted, the only thing I wanted to do was to lie down and order food and watch a movie. When I checked my cell phone and saw the message from my mother, I pressed my hand to my forehead with embarrassment.
It can't be! I forgot! I exclaimed in anguish. I called my mother immediately and thought about what excuse I would give her.
“Hello, son, it seems you didn't remember to congratulate your father.” My mother pointed out resignedly.
“I'm sorry, I...”
“Yes, I know you were too busy to leave him even a message, but I'm going to pass it on to you so you can talk to him.”
My hands were shaking, for my father was sterner and colder than my mother, and when something displeased him, he would let you know in the most lacerating way.
“Hello, son, how are you? Your mother told me you've been very busy,” he said, but I could tell the sarcasm in his words.
"Hi, Dad, yes, congratulations, by the way! I'm going to send you some money to buy you something."
“Thanks, but I'm just going to tell you something.” There, I psychologically braced myself and scrunched up my face like a child waiting to be scolded. Even though I was an adult now, I was still very strongly affected by my father's harsh words.
"It makes me happy that you have a passionate job that keeps you busy and eager to get ahead. I'm not going to complain to you like your mother does, because, I think that right now you don't need to feel bad, the only thing I'm going to ask you is to stop making excuses and do things if you feel like doing them, not to look good to others."
It was unexpected that my father would say that. I felt a bit of relief to hear him say it. In a way, I felt like he understood me, and how I was so thrown off by what he said, I responded to him as I never had before.
"Yes, Father, I promise I will improve that! Forgive me. I'm going to transfer money to you right away, this time I'll try to change my priorities." I told him, and that time my words were really sincere, however, they did not make a significant change in me.
I remained the same person, but regarding my family, I overflowed with more sincerity. That conversation with my father made me understand that excuses are more harmful than a painful truth, and I tried to put it into practice with my friends, but the results, ironically, were not so favorable.
THE END
EL HOMBRE DE LAS EXCUSAS
Una vida sedentaria y ocupada te mantiene en la clandestinidad y en una rutina de enclaustramiento. Las cosas que te parecían muy importantes de joven; cómo salir con amigos a charlar en una plaza o tomar algo en una cafetería, te empiezan a resultar fastidiosas y una pérdida de tiempo. Mayormente, uno se entrega a la soledad, y se queda satisfecho por los beneficios que ofrece hasta que te agobie y necesites un cambio esporádico, pero en mi caso, era algo muy extraño. Necesitaba siempre de la soledad para mantenerme al margen y enfocado, sin ella, era como un autómata que se entregaba a cosas triviales en vez de las prioritarias.
En aquella época, mis amigos de aquel entonces me apodaron “El hombre de las excusas”; pues siempre sacaba algo para evitar hacer planes con ellos. Dicho apodo jamás me dolió, pues era verdad que le daba más importancia a las prioridades de mi vida, pero intenté mejorar eso cuando aquello me perjudicaba con mis padres.
“Hijo, ¿cómo estás?” Me escribía mi madre por mensaje. “Iba a llamarte, pero como siempre me dices que estás ocupado, decidí escribirte. Espero que estés bien, te quiero mucho”.
Aquello me dejó descolocado y de inmediato la llamé. “Hola, madre, disculpa que no te haya escrito, he tenido una rutina muy apretada”, le dije, pero solo era una mentira.
“Tranquilo, hijo, solo quería saber cómo estabas. ¿Sabes? Pronto es el cumpleaños de tu padre y sería bueno que lo llamaras.”
Me sentí un poco mal por el tono en el que me lo decía, como si me estuviera suplicando que no lo olvidara.
“Tranquila, mamá, lo voy a hacer, de hecho, voy a enviarle algo de dinero para que se compre algo.” Le aseguré, y continuamos la conversación hablando de otros temas triviales.
Para mí, perderme en cualquier actividad retralimentativa laboral era tan común, que mi percepción del tiempo estaba rota. Mi reloj biológico ya no me avisaba si tenía hambre o sueño, pues eso lo rompía con meriendas y pequeños descansos hacia lo largo del día. Me apasionaba lo que hacía hasta tal punto, que me convertí completamente en otra persona. Y en cuanto a mi vida amorosa, pues ya se imaginarán, era una bodega vacía, vieja y carcomida sin ningún anuncio en la entrada.
En los días en que estaba más ocupado, era en los que más me solicitaban. David, un chico con el que intimé una vez, me escribió de repente para vernos.
“Hola, ¿cómo estás? ¿Me recuerdas?” Me dijo en un mensaje que leí horas después.
“Hola, sí, por supuesto, yo muy bien, ¿tú cómo has estado?”
“Bien” respondió horas después a mí mensaje. “De hecho, ya me voy a dormir. Te escribí temprano para ver si nos veíamos, pero veo que no es posible”.
En ese momento, no me pareció mala idea, últimamente había acumulado gran estrés y una descarga de intimidad hubiera sido bueno, pero no me hallaba dispuesto y no quería ser grosero, preferí dejar una excusa afable.
“Oh, disculpa, he estado muy ocupado, el trabajo se ha vuelto pesado y no he tenido tiempo de nada más. Yo te escribiré, ¿de acuerdo?”
“Está bien, lo que tú digas,” fue lo único que dijo, sentí sarcasmo en ese mensaje, pero no le presté mucha atención.
Las cosas se equilibraron en mi trabajo, pero siempre buscaba distracciones. Había perdido completamente la noción de los días, y fue entonces, que llegó el cumpleaños de mi padre, el cual, pasó desapercibido. Llegué a mí casa exhausto, lo único que quería era recostarme y pedir comida a domicilio para ponerme a ver una película. Al revisar mi celular y ver el mensaje de mi madre, presioné la mano con mi frente fuertemente por la vergüenza.
¡No puede ser! ¡Lo olvidé! Exclamé angustiado. Llamé a mi madre de inmediato y pensé en qué excusa le pondría.
“Hola, hijo, parece que no te acordaste de felicitar a tú padre.” Señaló mi madre con resignación.
“Lo siento, yo…”
“Sí, ya sé que estuviste muy ocupado como para dejarle aunque sea un mensaje, pero te lo voy a pasar para que hables con él.”
Me temblaban las manos, pues mi padre era más severo y frío que mi madre, y cuando algo le disgustaba, te lo hacía saber de la manera más lacerante.
“Hola, hijo, ¿cómo estás? Tú madre me ha dicho que has estado muy ocupado,” me dijo, pero pude notar el sarcasmo en sus palabras.
“Hola, papá, sí. ¡Felicitaciones, por cierto! Voy a enviarte dinero para que te compres algo.”
“Gracias, pero solo te voy a decir algo.” Allí me preparé psicológicamente y arrugué la cara como un niño esperando ser regañado. A pesar de que ya yo era un adulto, todavía me afectaba con mucha fuerza las duras palabras de mi padre.
“Me hace feliz que tengas un trabajo apasionado que te mantenga ocupado y con ganas de salir adelante. No te voy a reclamar como lo hace tu madre, pues, pienso que en estos momentos no necesitas sentirte mal, lo único que te voy a pedir es que dejes las excusas y que hagas las cosas si de verdad te nace hacerlas, no por quedar bien con los demás.”
Fue inesperado que mi padre dijera eso. Sentí un poco de alivio al escucharlo. De cierto modo, sentía que él me comprendía, y cómo quedé tan descolocado por lo que me dijo, le respondí como nunca lo había hecho.
“¡Sí, padre, te prometo que mejoraré eso! Perdóname. Voy a transferirte dinero de inmediato, esta vez trataré de cambiar mis prioridades.” Le dije, y esa vez mis palabras fueron realmente sinceras, sin embargo, no hicieron un cambio significativo en mí.
Seguí siendo la misma persona, pero con respecto a mí familia, desbordé más sinceridad. Aquella conversación con mi padre me hizo entender que las excusas son más dañinas que una verdad dolorosa, e intenté ponerlo en práctica con mis amigos, pero los resultados, irónicamente, no fueron tan favorable.
FIN
Texto traducido con Deepl | Text translated with Deepl
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The figure of a father who is rumored to be angry because he has a strict nature is not as imagined. Instead, he gives a good message for mental and psychological health.
your story is very good, my friend.
Thank you very much. There is a lot of reason in your words. Thanks for reading and commenting.
Thanks for the support!
We often get absorbed in what we do and neglect our family and friends. Luckily, your father wasn't too angry, but he did teach you a life lesson.
Thanks for sharing your experience with us.
Excellent day.
That's right, my friend. Thanks for stopping by and commenting. Regards!
story Excellent you have a happy day with your family.