My Different Life

I recently traveled to see family. It was great to see people. I will never take our collective health and availability to get together for granted. However, I noticed that I did not feel completely at ease.

Last week's trip really showed me how I've completely changed my life. 

It's not something I can totally put into words yet, but all of the mixed feelings are right there under the surface just waiting to be sorted through.

I am so different from my family. The biggest difference is that I am childless. I am also divorced and have not remarried. I do not make a lot of money. I do not live in a city with all of its conveniences. I do not even live in the same state as most of them. (And trust me, cultural differences between states definitely exist.) 

My life is fundamentally different from those I grew up with. It is structured differently. It has different demands and requirements. I do not have their same routines and milestones. Therefore, I cannot live life the way they do. I have to live my own life, whether my family understands this or not.

It was just really apparent to me recently in a way it has never been before. All of the criticisms, all of the suggestions that were given to me... They just don't make sense anymore. They don't relate to me. I no longer listen to them.

You know how you can sometimes feel lonely even when you are surrounded by love? In those moments while out of town, I would remember my home. I would think about my sewing room and my new friends (all of whom are either childless or their children are grown, so we have the same rhythms in life right now). I thought about my boyfriend who comforts me and makes me laugh all day long. 

I love my family so much. I also love my completely different life that I've worked so hard to create.

Comic retrieved from https://www.boylecounseling.com/see-life-side/
(This website is shared for photo credit; I am unfamiliar with and do not endorse its services.)

Yes. 100% Sure.

I thought about a colleague I hadn't talked to in about a year. (And by "talked to" I mean texted.) We went to school together and I was wondering what she was up to and how she was doing. It had been a year since graduation so I texted her to check in. 

She's going through IVF.

Oh... Yay!!! Oh no... I'm hopeful!! But. Oh... I don't miss that. 

Those were my thoughts within the first second of me reading her text.
My next thoughts were along the lines of "What can I say that's supportive?" 

And also, I thought this: that, no matter what, I knew she was going to be okay. I mean, hopefully she gets pregnant! That's what she wants. That's what she's going for. But if she doesn't... I know she'll be okay. (I didn't share that last thought though. I kept it to myself. It wasn't the right time.)

So I point out all her data that looks good and give some sincere, encouraging words. I also validated that IVF sucks and no one understands. She shared that it's really hard to manage all the adjustments--waiting, expectations, protocols, etc. It felt good to be able to support a friend in a way where I knew at least a little bit of what she was going through. It felt good because I know she feels alone in the process and it didn't hurt me to provide that support. (She has a loving husband. But you know what I mean.) It was just a text exchange, but I hope I helped.

But I gotta tell you.
She asked me, "Are you sure you're not going to have kids?"

And, without a single doubt or hesitancy, I texted her back: "Yes. 100% sure."

And... It felt good to say that.
Because being in limbo SUCKS.
And hey, it didn't work out for me, so here I am, and, nope, it's not going to happen now.

I'm not having kids. I'm 100% sure.

When I feel grief, I really feel it. I let myself. When I feel joy, I really feel that too. I allow it. My grief comes from the loss of my children; my joy comes from my continuing to live anyway.

Am I sure I'm not going to have kids?

Yes. 100% sure.