This is my first post in a while. I have no desire to write, no overflowing of words to pour out onto paper, no burning desire to release my thoughts and preserve these experiences forever. I don’t even make-believe very often anymore…I mean, if I did, what would I pretend? I’m content.
I tend to waiver between two explanations for this lack of enthusiasm. One, I think that maybe I have reached a point of satisfaction and fulfillment in my life and therefore I don’t need to lament through page after page of journaling. Two, and this is the one that scares me somewhat, I have given up and finally become the boring, uninspired, passionless person that I've always dreaded. I don’t know what to think.
Has my life turned out the way that I imagined it? Well, that’s hard to say because I never really made a plan for my life. I have certainly had a lot of different experiences leading up to this point and, although I don’t feel as though I applied myself to each one as much as I would have liked, I have no regrets about the past. My first 30 years were really fun and exciting – not perfect, but nothing ever is. I guess there comes a time in everyone’s life when they have to reconcile their dreams with reality. Happiness is elusive and is largely dependant on ones attitude (making lemonade out of lemons and whatnot), but I think that there is a sort of quantifiable ratio that we can prescribe to; something like 60/40 or, in my case ‘cause I’m a glass-half-full kind of girl, 70/30.
SO, maybe I’m not exactly who I thought I would be at this age, but my idea of who I am and what I want has changed as well. It will change again. I’m happy with what I’ve accomplished. I’m really happy with who I am and the values that I live by. I’m not nearly as angry as I used to be and I have a greater capacity for love and happiness than I ever thought possible.
On the downside, I still feel disappointed by people in general and isolated sometimes, but I no longer get depressed by these things. Besides, these feelings seem inevitable in such a haphazard existence.
I haven't always thought that I wanted to be a mother. I went through a phase of thinking that I would eschew all the basic tenants of society and never marry, never have children. I imagined myself traveling the world, never settling down anywhere. Sounds lonely and lovely at the same time. Maybe more lonely than lovely though.
Now, I can’t imagine my life without A, my love for him completes me. I think the next 10 years is going to be a welcome change. A brief hiatus from self-indulgence and involvement. A chance to put someone else first and work on the softer, more emotional part of myself before tackling the rest of my life.
