Unlike most, I seem to consider my resolutions later in the new year than on the 1st of January. Perhaps because to me, the new year doesn't really begin until Spring is closer around the corner. February is such a dull month and for me, as most of you know, it's a dark period of mourning and grief that doesn't seem to ever dissipate despite the years that pass.
I'm not here to consider my grief, except for the slight shift that I've come to realise and with such realization, also a new-found commitment to change.
I, like most, hate change. We say that change is good, and once we've changed, whether location or as a person, we're better for it. At the time that the change is occuring however, we're all hating it. Admit it!
Here I am, embarked (note that I'm not embarking) on a journey that at the moment seem endless and draining. Once again our house (mine and Simon's) is up for grabs and the constant cleaning for potential buyers is exhausting. Also not a topic for this post. It is what it is and I'm closer at accepting the fate of our home and marriage than ever before. You may even say that I have completely accepted it and moved on. This change has occurred, the only thing left is the material item that is the house.
The change and shift that I'm speaking of is more intangible. It's the shift that I've become increasingly obsessed with the notion of the future. What it is, what it will bring, and so on. I'm constantly worrying about either financial issues, work, home, my daughter, myself and others. I'm always considering my moves and how I decide today what to do will effect the outcome of tomorrow. Albeit great to have some foresight, it's not at all accurate. If I actually take stock and consider my past for a second and the choices I took and the paths I chose, neither one of them had the outcome that was considered at the onset of that decision. So why is it that I'm so completely consumed by the future at this point?
Part of me has disected this question and considered that perhaps I'm afraid of the fact that in four years, I'll be forty. Even typing that out scares me. But why do I feel that forty is such an end-of-the-road kind of age? Isn't forty suppose to be the new twenty?
The things that worry me the most with how my life is currently playing out (and then I'll consider the options rather than worst case scenarios) are the social pressures of todays society. We are suppose to have a house, 2.5 children, white picket fence and the lot. What I will have soon is no marriage, no house, 1 child and certainly no white picket fence (nor the lot!).
I hesitate to question why I feel that way, because I do know the answer. I'm being bullied by advertisment, bullied by society to believe that this close to forty, my life should be a certain way. I should be financially secure, have a house, have child(ren) (preferrably in their pre-teens!) and I should be starting to slow down and look ahead to retirement.
With all that in my mind, how could I not be freaking out about my current situation?
Instead of freaking out, why don't I instead take stock of what I do have!? Because it's so darn difficult to see the forest for the trees.
Here goes. For the first time ladies and gentlemen:
I have a wonderful little girl who steals my heart every single day and who makes me smile from ear to ear.
I have an amazing friend in my ex-husband (hate the term ex!) and a wonderful father to my daughter.
I have an supportive and loving relationship with a wonderful man.
I have girlfriends near and far that love me for me, not for what I could be.
I'm happy for the first time in my life with my job. I'm paid well, and I have freedom and support
Why do I care if I don't have a house that is mine (with a mortgage up to my ears!), or a new fancy car (with payments and crazy insurance), or three-four children (that I couldn't afford even if I wanted to!).
Well, because I've shifted lately, from actually being happy with what I have, and instead looking for ways to make my current situation seem bad. It's not bad. It's wonderful in its own way and I'm one of the luckiest people in this world.
And why couldn't I have children at forty? I admire and amaze at the courage and devotion of those who do, and maybe I will be one of those strong and beautiful women one day (in less than four years!).
