I've said it before, and I'll say it again. This isn't how my life was supposed to go. I'm supposed to be the wife of an executive, doctor or lawyer. I'm supposed to have 4 rock-headed boys and spend my days going to soccer, football, track and swim practices. My husband and I are still in love after everything we've been through, namely my battles with bipolar and diabetes.
I live in a 4 bedroom, 3 1/2 bathroom house with a formal living room, dining room and a huge kitchen. The house is 3250 sq. ft. and has a 3 car garage, a big back yard with a firepit and an outdoor dining area with a built in outdoor kitchen. I do not live in a 1 bedroom apartment with 2 other people on top of me. Actually, we do okay. We give each other our space when needed.
As I'm 59 yrs old, my children are grown, and one son is married with a 3 yr old and a baby on the way. I adore my daughter in law. We spend time together shopping, lunching and getting ourselves beautified at the salon. I just got a new Nissan Rogue , it's blue with tan leather interior.
I cook dinner on Sunday, and the family gathers together to spend time and share the events of the week. My sons get along pretty well. Of course Darius, the oldest, thinks he knows everything and does not hesitate to share his wisdom with his younger brothers. My second son, Xavier, is the one with the growing family. My third son, Maximillian, is the creative and artistic one with gallery openings and riding the waves of the artsy set. My youngest, Avery, is the techno, engineering nerd. He could do complex math problems at the age of 5, and took physics in 4th grade. He graduated high school at 15. He could have graduated earlier, but I kept him in school to take electives and let him mature a little more before heading off to college where he graduated at the top of his class.
They all have significant others and seem very happy. No one seems to have inherited my bipolar disorder. They've all been in therapy thanks to me. I wanted them to go to therapy just to be able to process my illness and my episodes of depression and mania. There were a couple of bad episodes, but with the love and support of my family, I got through it okay.
So, what happened? Why is the above not my reality? Well, for one thing, I've lived the greater part of my adult life in survival mode. When a person lives to survive, she wraps herself in a cocoon of protective feelings and actions. I was extremely shy with people I didn't know. I still am to some degree, but I've been trying to break down the walls I hide behind to let people in my world. I had to learn to trust people since I never felt I could trust anyone in my life to be there for me. Growing up with a then distant father and a schizophrenic mother makes for an extremely anxious child. I grew up waiting for the other shoe to drop. I spent most of my adult life that way. It's hard to meet your person when you expect them to hurt you deeply.
Which is why my track record is nothing but losers. I never had a chance with any of them, not that I wanted to have a relationship with any of them. All I did was have empty sex with them. I felt so bad about myself, if someone paid me the slightest bit of attention, there I was.
Oh well, I'm not there anymore. I really love myself now and have set a pretty high bar. I'd rather be by myself than with someone who doesn't value me. I'm not lonely, I'm just used to being alone. I think that if I did meet someone now, he'd be pretty hard-pressed to get me to relinquish my me time.
So, there you have it. The life the younger me wanted and the life the older me is living. Do I have regrets? Just one, I always wanted a child. But at this point I'll just settle for being a step-grandma. I like shopping for kids. Hell, I just like shopping.
Peace, Joy, Love - Queen B