Not to be sexist, but I suspect the ladies are going to understand this one a lot better than the men. Our society has certain expectations for women. We are raised to be the caretakers- of pretty much everyone. That is supposed to include ourselves, but when something has to get pushed aside- well, you ladies know the drill.
The problems arise when we push ourselves to the side so much that we kind of forget who we are. Not who we are supposed to be, who we actually are.
For me, it happened when I met the boys. I was at one of life’s lovely crossroads: turn right and move to Pensacola, go to UWF, work at Sacred Heart and enjoy the beach on my downtime- turn left and…enter into a five year battle to adopt two kids. Wait, what?
I will never regret my choice. But it did cost me. I became consumed with this horribly frustrating, depressing, god awful situation for so damn long that I literally forgot how to be happy. Which is not to say that I was never happy. Of course I was happy. I was madly in love. But when you’re in a position where you are only happy because of someone else- even if it’s your kids-you can lose sight of the rest of life. It’s a slow process, and it isn’t something that I even really noticed, beyond just thinking I was depressed. In fact, it wasn’t until now- almost three years after the adoption was finalized- that I realized what was really wrong.
I missed the Beastie Boys.
I missed driving fast just for the hell of it.
I missed sitting on St. Marks beach and writing, or stalking the light with my camera.
I missed dancing.
I missed being able to be happy by myself. Hell, I missed liking myself.
So, this morning I took a drive to the lighthouse. Really fast. And I played Pauls’s Boutique to no complaint. I sat on the beach, and I wrote this post in a marble composition notebook. The only thing missing was my camera (I can’t find my battery charger) and the dancing (I was never good at doing that outside of the house or a crowd). And you know what? It was a good day.
In the spirit of these adventures- I am going to start rediscovering all the little things that used to make me happy. And if you read this, and could relate- then I think you should try it too. Pull your record player back out. Buy a pair of funky ass shoes that would absolutely not fit in with the mommy crowd. Dance without hiding it behind the vacuum cleaner.
Refind your you.