"You are the designer of your own life."
A good friend of mine said these words to me several weeks ago. We were talking (well, I was whining) about the fact that all of this change is occurring in my life, and since I have a fair amount of time on my hands these days I need to find some kind of meaning. What do I want my life to be?
While it is true that we are all designers of our own lives, there is only so much we can choose or control ourselves. We can't just decide to become millionaires, or professional baseball players, or Academy Award-winning actors. I've never had such dreams, anyway. The only thing I have ever wanted to be when I grow up -- the ONLY thing -- is a wife and mom. I always knew I would work, but the job didn't matter as long as it was intellectually challenging. Work and everything else was always secondary . . . for me, having a family was the most important.
It is the only thing in my life I have ever wanted, and the only thing I have failed to achieve.
You see, it's true that people are marrying later, having kids later, etc. "Later" in this context means late 20's/early 30's. I thank the universe that I did not get married in my early 20's (I could have, but I wisely declined), because I was still figuring out who I was. We never truly figure out everything about ourselves, but my early and mid-20's were so full of angst I would have driven myself and anyone else crazy. And then I spent the years 28-35 just trying to survive, trying to get up out of bed each day, trying to fight a random series of mysterious illnesses plaguing my brain and body.
Now I am getting out more and spending more time in the world and even exploring new areas of life I didn't know existed. It sounds ingracious to say, but in doing this I also see firsthand what I missed all those years. Young women in their late 20's/early 30's, finally getting their confidence, out in the world playing the mating game. They're beautiful, they're successful, they're happy with the world on a string. My friends in this age group are now starting to settle down in serious relationships, or are already getting married and having kids. Their lives aren't perfect by any means, but they're on track, moving forward, TOWARD something. I couldn't be happier for them.
I missed it.
I'm not saying the window of opportunity for me has closed entirely. I'm not saying it's never going to happen. I do believe, however, that the window has gotten smaller. The likelihood that I will have that life that I want is getting even smaller and more distant. Maybe I will find that Great Love of my Life in my 50's, and maybe we'll have 20 or so years together and they will be wonderful. Maybe I will find value in not having kids of my own. Maybe my life will turn out better than I could have imagined.
As yesterday's post indicates, I feel a tremendous responsibility not to squander this life that I have been given. I AM the designer, and it's up to me to design something wonderful. I will, I have no doubt, but . . .
Before I can pick up a pencil, I need to do a lot of erasing. I need to let go of, and grieve, the life I wanted and thought I would have. I have to start with a blank sheet, and it's not as simple as tossing aside the one I had and picking up a new one. We only get one. So I begin the task of erasing lines and shapes and drawings of what I thought I would have, so that I can begin to fill the canvas with new ideas of the life I would like to have, leaving room for some surprises in between.
Written while listening to this.
