It
is amazing how much can change in the span of a year, or even six months. This
time last year, I thought the house I was in would be the house in which I
would stay for at least two years, if not longer. By the time my birthday came
around, I knew that would not be the case and I was not happy about it, but I
remained hopeful and optimistic that everything would work out with the family
I thought I was creating.
Now,
2018 looms on the morrow’s horizon and everything is different. Everything has
changed.
I
entered 2017 as optimistically as I have entered the past few years—with hopes,
telling myself that this would be my
year. Nothing would stop me, nothing would come in my way, this would be my year to get my shit together, figure
out my life, and move the fuck forward with real goals and real progress.
When
I made that resolution, I had no idea what it would take for it to come true.
When they say, “Be careful what you wish for or you just might get it,” they
are not kidding. I have come to the idea that when someone makes a wish—an earnest,
true wish—it is released to the Universe and the Universe will grant that wish.
The catch is that the wish will never
be granted the way you imagine it to be. Never.
As
it turned out, 2017 was difficult, but ultimately I have met much of what I
wanted to do. My blog has not remained as active as I had set out to make it,
but given my limited audience, I’m not really hurt about that. I know that as I
take my time getting all of my ducks in a row, blogging will fall into the
pattern of routine. I have been journaling again, nearly every night, before
bed. I write down my innermost thoughts and feelings, those intrusive things
that come unbidden to my mind and would linger, festering, if not for the
release of ink into paper.
The
year draws to a close and as the end, and a new beginning, draw nearer, I find
myself reflecting on my own thoughts yet again. I did not imagine I would be in
another apartment, nor did I think I would still be renting. I never dreamed
that I would be alone with my beautiful daughter. I know a handful of people
who have managed to purchase homes, moving forward with life in that typical
way that our society deems normal and acceptable. People with whom I went to
high school are getting married, having babies, and purchasing houses as if we
still lived in the Golden Age of American Financing (also known as the years
during which income taxes on the highest income bracket were over 90%). When I
compare myself to them, I think I am somehow coming up short on my potential,
that somehow I am not living in the timeline I was meant to and instead I am in
many ways retarded—lacking in some crucial fashion that others are not.
“People with whom I went to high school are getting
married, having babies, and purchasing houses as if we still lived in the
Golden Age of American Financing.”
As
2017 ends and 2018 begins, I find the futility in making such comparisons. It
does not do to compare myself to my peers in this way, for my journey in life
has been nothing like theirs. These people lived in nuclear households, having
both parents and full siblings with whom they lived stable lives and learned
how they belong in this world.
While
my peers had stability, love, support, and the sense of belonging no matter
what, I had other issues to face. My parents were never together; they were
never married and they never lived under the same roof. My mother had four
children, each with a different father, and my own dad fathered his second
child when I was 20 years old. My family is wrought with mental illnesses,
including depression, anxiety, and dementia (in old age). Those who were my
peers and suffered similarly became people I called friends, but even then, I
felt as though I didn’t belong.
Ultimately,
realizing the differences between myself and my peers in terms of what has led
each of us to this point in our lives helps me to realize that I cannot compare
myself to them, nor can they do so to me. I have a two-bedroom, two-bathroom
apartment at a lower monthly rental rate than any other apartment complex or house within 100 miles. I am located
conveniently close to my school (I can ride my bicycle to class), with my
daughter’s new preschool within walking distance of our new home. The mall is within walking distance of our
new home, and my best friend lives a mere 5-minute drive away.
So,
I am in an apartment. I have less square footage to maintain than my peers with
full-size houses of their own. I do not need to worry about paying for my own
garbage disposal, water usage, or sewage service. I have no HOA fees to pay,
nor property taxes. I may be a single mother now, but I have friends who come
to see me and I have friends who invite me out to do things. My daughter is
developing much better than she was, six months ago. Her speech has vastly
improved, and it has become clearer even in the mere month during which we’ve
lived in our new place.
Happy
New Year!
