Hi,
It's been a while. November & December have been the most hectic months. I celebrated my 21st birthday, went on a family holiday to Rarotonga, started my corporate life, spent lots of time with friends, said goodbyes, read books, watched Lexie and Mark die on Grey's Anatomy, and spent time with myself. I haven't found time to write, which has been gnawing at me. As much as I love writing, it is hard to set aside time for it, it takes a lot of mental energy and most days I come home too exhausted. I'm excited to sit down and debrief my thoughts and feelings sometime soon. There are many things I want to write about, but for now, here's a post from the 'archives' that I never got around to sharing. Much love, I'll be back soon x
I always thought I wanted a white picket fence. In my dreams, I imagined a brick-layered house with a pool, a vegetable garden and a treehouse for my kids to play in like the one my dad had built for us as children. I wanted a knight in shining armour, I wanted to be swept off my feet. I wanted to stay home dressed in aprons and slippers, to make school lunches and cut oranges for the football team. I wanted to braid hair, I wanted to play with legos, I wanted to attend the bake sales.
This was what I was conditioned to want. And so I wanted it. Badly.
What if I don't want a white picket fence? What if instead, I had a suitcase in one hand and a camera in the other. I could be alone but not lonely, lacking responsibilities. I dream of travelling the world and being free. I want to explore beaches and forests, big cities and remote scenery. I want to kiss random strangers and stay out till three. I could lounge by the sea drinking mojitos till I fall asleep. I want to visit my friends or have them join me. I could swim in the ocean and skip through streets. Who knows where I'd wake up, a life full of mystery.
I would've looked cute with a round belly and a matching ring.
Perhaps I shouldn't spend time anticipating the future, worrying about it or contemplating how I want it to be. Life is unexpected and unpredictable. Yet the future is a constant topic of conversation, not only now as I edge towards graduation, but always. So many times in my life I have been asked the question "do you want to have kids". I thought I wanted kids, the way most think they want kids because we're told we do. As a three-year-old, I had a little baby doll that I would carry around with me. This was my path, even as a tiny girl, that I would have a child of my own someday, become a caregiver, a mother, a woman.
But do I want a child? I am a selfish person at times, can I put someone's needs and wants entirely before my own? I love my independence and I hate the idea of being trapped. I need space, I want to see the world. But I want love, I want something that is my own. I want to nurture and care, to hold and be held. I want to be someone's everything, perhaps something only a child can bring.
What is our obsession with forcing these choices onto people at such a young age? I feel like I have to decide, so I can plan, accommodate, and make sense of my path. Where the future will take me, and how I need to prepare. My biological clock is ticking, the constant reminder that my value has an end date. We are told that we will change our minds; our tubes can't be tied. What if I have regrets? What if I'm too late? What if I can't undo my mistake?
I live in a country where what I do with my body is my choice. This is not the case for every woman, millions live in places where they do not have reproductive freedom. We are more than our bodies, more than our reproductive ability.
I wish I didn't feel this confounding pressure to know, to have it all figured out. What do I want out of life? Where do I want to be? Who do I want in it? How do I figure that out? What does next year look like? Who will I be in 10 years?
I can't know and maybe I should stop trying to. One day I might end up with a white picket fence. Or I might end up without one. Either way, I think a part of me will always long for the other.
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