The more things that I experience in life, the more I don’t want any of the things that I grew up wanting. As a child, I read every single story meant for children to read, and of course I spent time daydreaming of a life that ended with Happily Ever After. This stuck with me for longer than I would like to admit.
My inner hopeless romantic just knew that by this age my prince would be knocking down my door ready to whisk me off to a life of love and happiness. I would have some dream job where I’d wake up excited to go make a difference, because merely going to work would not be what I was doing. Eventually, I’d give birth to a house full of perfect children, who’d all have one issue that they’d overcome with ease and go on to make me the proudest parent you ever did see.
I’ve always known that none of these aspirations are anywhere close to realistic. That never stopped me from wanting these fantasies to be my reality. Not anymore. I realized how boring a that life would be. After 24 years of ups, downs, bad decisions, poor judgment, hospital stays, fights, friendships, romances, lessons learned and all around survival, I get handed “perfect” on a silver platter. I would be bored out of my mind.
I am not saying that I want a life full of craziness. I never want to live a life where I cease to learn, quit improving, lose my desire to pursue something greater, no longer feel like I’m accomplishing anything. In order for all of those things to continue a fairytale life is not an option; one identical to the story books nor my personal interpretation. Instead of longing for some unrealistic life that will leave me feeling – among other things – unfulfilled, I desire the journey that is