I used to think I had it all figured out.
I had a really good idea of how I expected my life to turn out, of who I was going to be.
Boy, was I off.
Here I am, at 24 years old, more lost than I’ve ever been.
I grew up with this idea that I would grow up to become a powerful, career-oriented, Manolo-wearing New Yorker with a fabulous apartment that I shared only with my cat.
No children, no love-of-my-life, no cooking skills. Nothing domestic whatsoever. Just me and my career and life was going to be perfect.
Except… I don’t think that is who I want to be at all. That is not how I have turned out.
The idea of marriage and children terrified me, made me sick. I watched my parents marriage crash and burn, helped with the raising of my little brother. I had been there, done that, checked all that shit off of my list.
A career would never leave me with an empty house and empty beds. A career wouldn’t ever turn a cold shoulder, or require walls to come down. Having nothing but a career would be safe. I could accomplish greatness and take over the world, maybe the universe. Alone.
Safe and alone.
Fuck that, Janae!
It seems all of the preconceived notions I had about what I wanted from life were wrong, backwards.
A life without love- what kind of life is that? Of course I still want a career and want to kick ass at my job, but I no longer think that only my job will be able to fulfill my fluid soul.
I’ve realized: I want love.
"Real love. Ridiculous, inconvenient, consuming, can’t-live-without-each-other love.”
And I want a home, not an apartment. Any maybe some kids and even a dog.
I want to open my heart and my life up to light. No more sealing myself off, hiding behind the walls I’ve spent years building so solid and sound.
It’s time for the walls to come down and for me to start basking in the light.