If you know me, you may have heard me shriek groan ruminate wonder about finding a partner for my golden years my third act. You may have read my Letters to My Future Boyfriend. You may know about my last significant relationship with the nature-obsessed neighbor from hell. You may even know that the planet Uranus is in my house of partnerships which every astrologer will tell you means my life will not include a traditional household with a picket fence, a puppy, and 2 adorable children!
But you may not know I have been grappling with this human need to couple and breed produce offspring for years. I was always clear about the offspring part, though. I didn’t want them. Even though I was a classroom teacher in my 20’s and 30’s and loved kids, I was happy to send them home to their parents. I was driven, instead, to design a career path that was meaningful and fulfilling. (I did!) And I was fiercely independent. Probably since I was about 6 years old. Maybe 5. It was my survival strategy in the family. And it served me well.
Until now.
Now, in my old-ish age, I’m wondering if I might want to be a little less fierce. A little less independent. I’m wondering how to manage life with humans at this stage even as I remain an introvert who is easily overwhelmed by groups of more than two and who prefers blogging-consulting-writing to rock concerts, cocktail parties, downhill skiing, and rodeos. I’m wondering if I am secretly narcissistic because I never had kids and if I’d had them if I would have learned how to cook turkey dinners. I’m wondering if there were choices I didn’t make that might have led me to a career with the Metropolitan Opera or to a life raising sheep on a ranch in Wyoming with eight kids and a scruffy ne’er-do-well husband. (Do they have sheep in Wyoming?) I’m wondering if fan mail qualifies as a relationship. I’m wondering if I had made different choices, would I be experiencing more aliveness? More loneliness? More love?
And yet, here I am. With this life.
It is darned good. A little sweet. A little wacky. And it is mine. It fits me.
It fits me.
And, that is the key. Right? Living the life that fits you. Not your Uncle Jack. Not your sister Doris. Not even your beloved teacher, Esther. You.
As I write this, I feel a sense of relief. I did not start the post with this in mind. My plan was to write about finding friends and companionship. Modifying my fierce independence. Going to more rodeos peopled activities. But the Spirits-of-the-Blog had other things in mind, I guess. And maybe that’s it, too. Think about it. What makes you, you? And if that is unclear, ask the Spirits-of-your-Heart what they might suggest. Write to them. Ask. Then let them tell you. Or imagine yourself in 5-10 years. Ask your Future Self what you are doing and how you might get there. You can use my handy dandy journal for more guidance.
And, sure, some days I wish I was Jacob Collier. And I’m still wondering about my future boyfriend and considering learning how to cook turkey dinners. But, the truth is, I’m good with sweet.
And a little wacky.
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To my bloggEEs: How might you appreciate the life you have? What makes you, you? Try writing to your future self and let us know what they said. Of course, if there are painful issues you need to address, there might be therapy in your future. And, if you are looking for a way to manage life with humans, check out the Evolutionary Collective‘s free event in October. I joined this group a few years ago and it is revolutionary, in the best possible rainforest-y way!
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