"I can't believe this is my life. This is not what I expected" I said to Rae. We were carrying the box of beekeeping equipment through someone's yard toward our car.
He looked worried, but I assured him I LOVE this life. It's just a lot different than what I had imagined as a teenager. (But who knows where the hell they're going at that age, right?!)
I'm 33. I don't have kids. I don't live near my family. I have a life apart from everything I knew just a few years ago. As negative as I made that sound, I love it and all its bittersweet notes.
The bitter parts:
As a kid/teen I always imagined I'd become a parent and it sometimes feels bizarre that I got this far without ever joining the club. When I got married at 22 I pushed the possibility further out, year after year. Self preservation took place of social expectation. My maternal/parental/nurturing instinct is alive and well, though. This isn't something I admit often, but there are times I mourn the untapped potential of that little uterus I carry around. I mourn what I thought could be, regardless of my ambivalence about it. Maybe I want kids? No. I don't know. Maybe later. Fostering might be it, after all there are so many people on this earth. I have so many things I want to do, so I keep doing me first. And I look forward with intention to nurture souls that I have not and will not birth. No love goes to waste.
I miss my family and Oklahoma friends. I miss holidays and birthdays and funerals. I see my nieces and nephews grow through facebook and instagram, all choices I knew I was making when I drove away. I love living here. I love my people there. It's an odd place to be, to feel so split.
The sweet parts:
I'm working a job I enjoy and am trying to figure out my next move. I love my coworkers, my clients, my commute and the flexibility. It's good for now but soon it will change and I will be ready.
The Pacific Northwest. {Period.} The smell of saltwater in the morning. My bike commute along the canal. The sun in the summer, rain winter. The autumn that lasts for months at a time.
I have my bestloverfriend and our life together. Rumi kisses and Augustus purrs. I have free time to do what I will. I have a home. I have solitude when I want it and friends to lean on.
I've never had a direct route planned, unlike my perfectly Virgo lover. I enjoy that about my existence, my ability to roll with it. When I feel the right wave coming I jump on the board and ride away. For me, not having a concrete plan is how I find myself in the most delightful places. Like walking through a green yard under a grey sky after a full day of beekeeping.
This year has been one of making peace with myself. Forgiving and giving room. I've always been good at ignoring the expectations of others, but I keep myself bound in my own. Aren't we always our toughest critic, the biggest reminder of fouls past? I have been re-learning to let myself feel, fully and without judgement or fear. Realization touches ground - you play by a different set of rules. Only you can know them. Only you can make and break them.
<3 br="">
He looked worried, but I assured him I LOVE this life. It's just a lot different than what I had imagined as a teenager. (But who knows where the hell they're going at that age, right?!)
I'm 33. I don't have kids. I don't live near my family. I have a life apart from everything I knew just a few years ago. As negative as I made that sound, I love it and all its bittersweet notes.
The bitter parts:
As a kid/teen I always imagined I'd become a parent and it sometimes feels bizarre that I got this far without ever joining the club. When I got married at 22 I pushed the possibility further out, year after year. Self preservation took place of social expectation. My maternal/parental/nurturing instinct is alive and well, though. This isn't something I admit often, but there are times I mourn the untapped potential of that little uterus I carry around. I mourn what I thought could be, regardless of my ambivalence about it. Maybe I want kids? No. I don't know. Maybe later. Fostering might be it, after all there are so many people on this earth. I have so many things I want to do, so I keep doing me first. And I look forward with intention to nurture souls that I have not and will not birth. No love goes to waste.
I miss my family and Oklahoma friends. I miss holidays and birthdays and funerals. I see my nieces and nephews grow through facebook and instagram, all choices I knew I was making when I drove away. I love living here. I love my people there. It's an odd place to be, to feel so split.
The sweet parts:
I'm working a job I enjoy and am trying to figure out my next move. I love my coworkers, my clients, my commute and the flexibility. It's good for now but soon it will change and I will be ready.
The Pacific Northwest. {Period.} The smell of saltwater in the morning. My bike commute along the canal. The sun in the summer, rain winter. The autumn that lasts for months at a time.
I have my bestloverfriend and our life together. Rumi kisses and Augustus purrs. I have free time to do what I will. I have a home. I have solitude when I want it and friends to lean on.
I've never had a direct route planned, unlike my perfectly Virgo lover. I enjoy that about my existence, my ability to roll with it. When I feel the right wave coming I jump on the board and ride away. For me, not having a concrete plan is how I find myself in the most delightful places. Like walking through a green yard under a grey sky after a full day of beekeeping.
This year has been one of making peace with myself. Forgiving and giving room. I've always been good at ignoring the expectations of others, but I keep myself bound in my own. Aren't we always our toughest critic, the biggest reminder of fouls past? I have been re-learning to let myself feel, fully and without judgement or fear. Realization touches ground - you play by a different set of rules. Only you can know them. Only you can make and break them.
<3 br="">
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