When I was little, I drew my future. I visualized myself at ages 23, 25, 26, and 27.
I depicted my expectations for my future on a pad of paper and drew rudimentary stick figures of where I thought I would be in my mid 20’s.
I drew myself as a fresh-faced and bright-eyed 23 year old successful woman. At 25, I had met and married my soul mate in a lavish wedding with what looked to be a million dollar gown. At 26, we bought our expansive home, with a yard and white-picket fence, and thankfully we did, because at age 27, I drew myself with five children - including one newborn.
I came across this group of drawings while rummaging through old files and boxes. The corners are tinged sepia with age, and the pages crinkle with days gone by; threatening to deteriorate if held too hard. I have to guess these illustrations are circa 1996 conjured by my eight year old brain. This historical reference from my childhood is priceless. It’s a direct look into the inner workings of my mind, with telescopic clarity. It’s clear that at that age, I felt as though getting married, buying a house and having babies, all by the age of 27 was the definition of success.
Twenty years later, instead of raising children, I’m instagramming an unhealthy amount of photos of my cats. Instead of donning a wedding gown, I’m in sweatpants as often as possible. Rather than dating I’m building a solid relationship with my Netflix account and ice cream. I have an ongoing list of hobbies, interests and goals I want to learn about and achieve. I cherish my alone time and can’t be bothered to date - due to how much it takes away from my said alone time.
Trust me, I know how sad this sounds. It’s like I am a 2017 version of a Cathy Comic. And while a Cathy Comic has universal symbolism of a middle-aged woman who has missed the boat on many lifetime achievements, such as marriage and children, I’m beginning to think that maybe Cathy had some things figured out.
Perhaps I would feel more isolated and defunct if I didn’t see this trend emerge in many of the women currently in my life. Many of my friends - some who are single, and some who have been in relationships for many years - are still navigating the gentle balance of maintaining their relationships AND carving out space for themselves as individuals.
So much so that one friend grapples with the idea of moving in with her long-time boyfriend because it feels like a threat to her personal style. Or another finds herself tapping the brakes on a new relationship with someone she really likes because weekends spent with her new beau, means weekends spent away from her own projects or her own plans. I even had one friend who left her seemingly perfect life with a job that she liked, a partner whom she loved, in a city that she really enjoyed; to move back in with her parents to save money so she could resume an old dream of hers to live a life of extended and exotic travel. While that decision, at times, feels like she detonated a bomb, there was something about her seemingly pristine life that “didn’t quite fit.”
It’s as though individuality and taking the time to hone in on it has become the commodity; not intimacy. This isn’t to say that relationships are a thing of the past. Of course I like to get asked out on dates. I’m not here to write rhetoric on why isolation is the new substitute for monogamy. Relationships are great, but not when they come at the expense of my sense of self. In many ways Cathy and her comical life of single living has become an ambassador for lone women, but she is also a compliment to the women who have figured out how to have both a partner they love and a personal life they respect. Cathy just wasn’t ready to foster these things simultaneously, and neither am I.
My friends and I are just putting the finishing touches on building lives we love as they are. And what’s to come after may include a house, a husband or a wife, and children. Or it may not. Regardless, it’s comforting to know, that we’ll be fine either way.
At 23 I was living in Europe, that was my marriage. At 25 I was living in my car and traveling cross country, that was my home. At 27 I began an entirely new career, that has become my baby. It’s entirely different than the life the eight year old drew, but that girl was still learning the endless boundaries of her creativity.