In Part 1, I reflected on my tendency to rationalize around my happiness. In Part 2, I talk about how I changed. So after all of the reflection on my life, I realized that my happiness was my problem, and mine alone. I had to resolve to figure out how to make myself happy. I didn’t know what the hell it was that would make me happy, but I knew that only I could figure it out because I don’t think it’s acceptable to expect someone to give me something I can’t give myself. And frankly, I think it’s unfair to put the burden of my own happiness, mental health, etc. on another person. What makes the difference in my happiness is my choice to make my life fulfilling for me, regardless of the different factors I faced on a day-to-day basis. I’ve always had a mix of the things I felt I needed to consider myself established, content, and even happy, albeit not always at the same time. However, until now, I didn’t stop to think critically about their purpose in the grand scheme of my life. I seriously think a switch was flipped and it was like “Look, you have […]
I’ve sat back and watched, but it’s hard to keep quiet about this. Do people understand that your life doesn’t end with parenthood and that your identity doesn’t have to be synonymous with your role as parent? More and more, I see women (I’ll pick on them for a moment) who have these lavish baby showers that don’t acknowledge the reason for the party – you know, the BABY? The “showers” are, in reality, a reason to party and celebrate the mom-to-be, with almost no mention of the baby awaiting its grand entrance into the world. It’s as if the party is the last hoorah for the woman, akin to a funeral except in party form. I often ask myself (because it would be rude to ask them) “You do realize that you can still be you once you’re a mom, right?” While becoming a parent will undoubtedly change you, it doesn’t have to be all-consuming to the point where you lose your identity. You can still be the fabulous, fly, go-getter you were before gestation began, and the world will not implode. I promise — I’m living proof.
There is no excerpt because this is a protected post.
I always joke that “this can’t be life” whenever crazy, illogical, or incredulous things happen to me. It was never too serious, just a fleeting acknowledgment of the myriad inconveniences that are thrown my way in the midst of me living my so-called life. Unfortunately, I noticed that I now use the term multiple times a day, and the laugh factor behind the phrase is missing. What once was a chance to poke fun at my misfortune has turned into a plea of sorts, akin to me begging the universe to pump its breaks.
Let me go. I’m not promising I’ll come back soon, but I’m not leaving forever. Sigh. I’ve been feeling strange the last few weeks, and I couldn’t quite place the origin of my angst. I posted about it a few days ago, wondering why a passage from They Cage the Animals at Night was hitting me so hard. I’ve finally accepted that I’m on the brink of what could be the most significant time of transition I’ve experienced since 2007, when I started grad school and had COM. Now, I’m leaving the university and embarking on …. the unknown. No job is solidified, only what I hope are some really, REALLY solid leads. All I know is that come July 1, my life will forever change. I just hope it’s for the better.