Readjusting expectations
I feel very bittersweet lately. There are things that I’m doing right now that I always thought that I would do at the next stage of my life, when I grew up and got married. I’ve mentioned that I’m buying a condo for the first time, and I feel a little daunted by the fact that I’m going to be responsible for everything. I always imagined doing it as an ‘us’ with someone; buying furniture, bickering about the colors, wall painting at nights while tipsy and naked. Not much to ask for, right? On the plus side, there will be no need for the compromising that goes on (I’ll give you the 80’s lava lamp if you take down that picture of the almost naked Burt Reynolds (seriously, an ex had this one)). Hell, who knows, there might be some drinking and nakedness going on anyway.
Also, while I love the little bean (even more than a whole tubful of cherry garcia), I see my sister and her family being so perfect and wonderfully enmeshed in their little cocoon of bliss, that I envy their happiness. I’ve always gotten along well with children, and part of me is jealous that my younger (by 4 years) sister is getting to experience motherhood before I do. I think it’s natural to feel this way, even though I do feel a little guilty about it. It’s certainly a dichotomy, loving my sister as much as breath, but also secretly wishing that her life wasn’t so completely equal to what my idea of security and happiness is, and feeling jealous that she gets to have it while I don’t.
One of the things that has changed in the past year is that instead of planning for the hypothetical two, I am planning for myself. Instead of thinking ‘I will save up to buy a house when I get married’, I have put that down on a condo. Instead of being sad about the possibility of having no children of my own, I have already decided to adopt if I’m still single when I’m 35. It’s a 180 from where I used to be before, but at least I’m down on earth and not playing in the clouds, like I usually am.
