Apparently I only write on the eve of my next birthday. My last entry was a sappy reflection of my 20’s.
I had a melt down last week.
It was the night before the girls’ dad set off on a three-week adventure on the Grand Canyon. Billie was devastated she wouldn’t see her dad for nearly a month.
When we got home, still sobbing, she asked why I couldn’t just live with Daddy again. “Why can’t you just go back? I don’t like going back and forth between two homes!”
Insert knife. Twist.
I told her how sorry I was for her sadness, acknowledged that her (our) situation is really hard but that in talking about it, we can get through it together.
I kept it together for bed time then proceeded to melt down in my kitchen. If I were a good mom, wouldn’t I just stay with their dad so as to avoid screwing them up? Who am I to sacrifice their happiness for mine?
As tears streamed down my face all I could think was, this isn’t the life I imagined.
I was never the little girl who fantasized about her wedding, because I was never getting married nor having kids. And here I am, at age 30, raising two beautiful daughters as a single mother.
Here I am, at age 30, doubting one of the biggest decisions of my life.
I don’t know what I imagined as a kid. I remember thinking people in their 20’s had it all figured out. When recent grads would come back to my high school to visit, I would study their outfits, their hair and makeup and imagine what their dorms looked like, how cute their boyfriends must be, and how soon, they’d launch into their dream career.
I knew I was going to college. I knew exactly what career I’d pursue, and everything in that area of my life played out as I imagined. Until it didn’t.
This isn’t the life I imagined.
I never imagined having a tribe of friends who would support me and love me in a way I didn’t know to be possible.
I never imagined finding my (professional) purpose in life, helping to develop a journalism program that has implications beyond my life on this earth.
I never imagined successfully co-parenting two beautiful daughters with a man I’m grateful is their father.
I never imagined living in a vortex of goodness that would bring me unexplainable connections with other humans.
My tribe picked me off the kitchen floor last week and reminded me that while this may not be the life I imagined, I should never forget that it is no doubt a truly, beautiful life.
See you tomorrow, 31.