April 13, 2008

• I hate beating myself up. Mentally.
  Like, when I was younger, I had no set goal in my head of getting a Master’s degree. I wanted to be an architect. I recall in 1995 (age 18) writing down, in my journal that by this time (or by the time I was 23, 28, whatever) in my life, I wanted to be healthy (yes, I probably put “thin”), have long blond hair, have a job, buy my own car (probably something cute & small), and probably have a boyfriend or hubby. I’m fairly certain my outlook on education was basic. Go to college to get a job; not, go to college and never come out again.
  I should really try to find that journal.
  At any rate, on my drive home today from Fargo, I started beating myself up again. I should be this, I should have done that already, blahblahblah. Halfway through the invisible rant, I stopped myself. “Wait a minute, I am successful. I have a great job. I love what I do. Who can say that? I research stuff not a lot of others do. And I want to do more; I have ambition.” So, why the SHOULDs all over the place?
  I suppose it all relates to my personal life.
  And I’m sure I’ve written about this before.

  So, let’s throw the question out there: What does it mean to be successful in one’s personal life? Having healthy children? A happy marriage? [The two things that I am bothered by due to society's standards and the expectations placed on women of my age.] Does it have to include those things?
  I’d say that success in one’s career is easier to define. I get paid well for something I want to do on a daily basis. There is potential in my job to grow intellectually, etc. Not many jobs allow for that.

  When it comes right down to it, and I ask myself whether I want children NOW or to be married NOW, I can’t help that my reaction is “no.” I flinch when I say it even because I feel awkward about liking where I am right now. Even as I write this, I know that I am open to children and marriage, but I fear both situations big time. They are the unknown for me. And I guess I am more comfortable with intellectual unknowns (what will happen if I publish something?). Heck, I can’t even decide whether I want to buy a house even though I detest living in my apartment.

  I feel like I am waiting. Waiting for that moment when it’ll dawn on me. Or a lightning bolt will strike. Something like that. WHAM, okay, I want to do this now. The last thing I want to do is do something just because everyone else is or everyone else is telling me to. Everyone knows how stubborn I am. The more I am pushed, the more I rebel.

  There are no perfect answers in life.
  I used to be okay with that.

  • 9:38 pm
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