Why Do I Feel Guilty That My Parents Sacrificed Everything for Me?

I've been sitting with this for a while, and I think I just need somewhere gentle to put it down. My parents gave up so much for me. Quietly, without ever making it a show. My dad stayed in work that wore him down. My mom folded up her own dreams and tucked them away where no one would see. The new clothes, the lessons, the little comforts I had growing up — all of it was stitched together from things they chose to go without. And I love them for it. That part has never been in question. But somewhere along the way, that love started to feel heavy in a way I don't quite know how to hold. Every decision I make now, I quietly measure against everything they gave up. Is this enough? Am I honouring it? And underneath that is a softer, sadder question I rarely let myself ask: what if the life that would actually make me feel whole isn't the exact one they imagined for me? When my mom says "we just want you to be happy," I believe her. I do. I just wish I could untangle her idea of my happiness from my own, without it feeling like a betrayal. I don't think I'm ungrateful. I think I'm just tired of loving them through a constant quiet guilt — like I owe a debt that was never really mine to be handed, and can never fully be repaid. If you've ever felt this — the strange ache of being loved this deeply — I'd really like to know I'm not the only one. I'm not looking for answers tonight. Just to feel a little less alone in it.