an IKEA life
Come in, sit down. Let's have a chat about identity. Specifically, as it relates to before and after marriage/offspring.
Before I got married, I had this life. I had this great apartment, with matching towels, matching dishes, lots of framed photos on the walls, trips to the bookshop that almost always resulted in some novel or other jumping into my basket. I had a cat, who now lives with my mom. I loved beautiful things. Not expensive, necessarily, but beautiful things. I had girlfriends with whom I'd go out to dinner, or shopping, or what have you. I painted pottery.
In short, it was fun, and largely carefree (although in a head-in-the-sand kind of way).
For the longest time, I felt that getting married and having kids was the end of all that. Forever. I mourned (and sometimes still do) that life, that person, for she was now dead. And in her place was this new person, but I didn't know her. I still don't quite know who she is, and I'm still in a place where I'm not sure I care to get to know her. I'm still angry that I don't have the old Sarah.
This isn't to say that this new person, this new life, doesn't have its moments of awesomeness - quite the contrary. It's just that the person who used to be there is still there on the inside, in my head. I still love the things I loved back then. I still care about fashion (meaning I long to look slightly stylish), I still love beautiful things, and all the things I used to love doing are still a part of me.
No, no - where I get tripped up is how to take the me that's in my head, and blend her into this new life, of budgets, responsibility, sleep deprivation, tantrums, housecleaning, and the absence of privacy.
Looking at that list, those things all seem to be negative. Perhaps the answer lies in recognising the positive aspects of this new person, this new life?
I was married to someone's wallet once before, and it was very lonely. I might not have vast resources, but I'm becoming quite resourceful with less, and my husband appreciates it, and me, greatly. Yes, there is responsibility. But is that such a bad thing? To take a selfish, spoiled pre-adult, and turn her into a woman, who is capable of so much more than she ever thought possible? Looking after only yourself is easy. But looking after yourself while also caring for other people - that's tricky. Sleep deprivation - that's a bit harder to put a positive spin on, but there's always coffee! Tantrums quite possibly give me greater insight into my own foibles. Housecleaning, it gives me the opportunity to bless others with my efforts - which does not, as I am so fond of muttering under my breath, go unnoticed. In fact, it says "I love you and I care for you" to those closest to me. The absence of privacy is equal to an abundance of people in my life who love me.
It's kind of like an IKEA life - It looked really funky, cool, and together. Then I moved overseas and had to disassemble it into tiny parts. When we got here, I had to start reassembling it again, but I lost the instructions, so it's shaping up to look altogether different than the original. But the finished product will be just as funky, cool, and together - although maybe a few loose screws...
So I guess it's not so much the death of who I was, but more watching her grow into who I am. And that isn't such a bad thing after all...
XOXO,
Sarah
Before I got married, I had this life. I had this great apartment, with matching towels, matching dishes, lots of framed photos on the walls, trips to the bookshop that almost always resulted in some novel or other jumping into my basket. I had a cat, who now lives with my mom. I loved beautiful things. Not expensive, necessarily, but beautiful things. I had girlfriends with whom I'd go out to dinner, or shopping, or what have you. I painted pottery.
In short, it was fun, and largely carefree (although in a head-in-the-sand kind of way).
For the longest time, I felt that getting married and having kids was the end of all that. Forever. I mourned (and sometimes still do) that life, that person, for she was now dead. And in her place was this new person, but I didn't know her. I still don't quite know who she is, and I'm still in a place where I'm not sure I care to get to know her. I'm still angry that I don't have the old Sarah.
This isn't to say that this new person, this new life, doesn't have its moments of awesomeness - quite the contrary. It's just that the person who used to be there is still there on the inside, in my head. I still love the things I loved back then. I still care about fashion (meaning I long to look slightly stylish), I still love beautiful things, and all the things I used to love doing are still a part of me.
No, no - where I get tripped up is how to take the me that's in my head, and blend her into this new life, of budgets, responsibility, sleep deprivation, tantrums, housecleaning, and the absence of privacy.
Looking at that list, those things all seem to be negative. Perhaps the answer lies in recognising the positive aspects of this new person, this new life?
I was married to someone's wallet once before, and it was very lonely. I might not have vast resources, but I'm becoming quite resourceful with less, and my husband appreciates it, and me, greatly. Yes, there is responsibility. But is that such a bad thing? To take a selfish, spoiled pre-adult, and turn her into a woman, who is capable of so much more than she ever thought possible? Looking after only yourself is easy. But looking after yourself while also caring for other people - that's tricky. Sleep deprivation - that's a bit harder to put a positive spin on, but there's always coffee! Tantrums quite possibly give me greater insight into my own foibles. Housecleaning, it gives me the opportunity to bless others with my efforts - which does not, as I am so fond of muttering under my breath, go unnoticed. In fact, it says "I love you and I care for you" to those closest to me. The absence of privacy is equal to an abundance of people in my life who love me.
It's kind of like an IKEA life - It looked really funky, cool, and together. Then I moved overseas and had to disassemble it into tiny parts. When we got here, I had to start reassembling it again, but I lost the instructions, so it's shaping up to look altogether different than the original. But the finished product will be just as funky, cool, and together - although maybe a few loose screws...
So I guess it's not so much the death of who I was, but more watching her grow into who I am. And that isn't such a bad thing after all...
XOXO,
Sarah
Comments
Love you tons.