The older I get, the more twists and turns life takes.
I have been thinking about my younger self recently. What would she think of the woman I am today? Would she be proud?
My teenage self had big plans. I was going to be a successful child psychologist with my own home and a big happy family by the time I hit 30. Here is what happened instead: Around age 19 I had a breakdown during the last bit of university, (I almost flunked out thanks to then-untreated anxiety and depression), so I moved home and got a part time job and worked on a Sociology degree by correspondence. I have always been fascinated by people and why we do what we do, so the switch from studying psychology to sociology wasn’t too daunting of a leap.
I got pregnant. I struggled to complete my degree in the midst of a failing relationship and the sleepless newborn and toddler phases. I left the relationship with a three year old and a few boxes of belongings. At age 25, I had nothing. Or rather, that’s how I felt. I had the love and support of family and friends and my small daughter. I had a hard won university degree.
I decided to go back to school in 2016. That fall was the start of a new chapter that ended with convocation last week. I did it; I got my college diploma in Executive Office Admin. The journey was a rough one. I made friends; and I lost some, too. I dealt with a messy breakup in the midst of it. I’m stronger now.
No, I’m not where I thought I would be. I’m in a different place, still figuring out what I want and what it means to be fulfilled. I don’t have that white picket fence existence I thought I’d have by now, and that’s okay.