Finding Myself...

Yes, at 28 I still haven't really "found" myself. Most people go by titles their entire life:single, married, divorced, looking, mother, unable to have children, don't want children, stay at home mom, career woman...the list goes on.

And I'm neither of the above...and it bothers me just a little.

When I was younger, I imagined my life differently. Not that my life totally sucks now, but I did envision it differently. (Blame it on the Cinderella Complex.) Most of my friends from an earlier age are either married, engaged, have kids, are pregnant, etc. ---You get the point right?--- I'm not saying I want or don't want these things, but that's the thing...I would have thought I had that figured out by now. And I don't. The reason this bothers me so, is because I'm a control freak. I love it when plans are executed perfectly and my envisioned life plan has not been executed. Sure I should view this as an opportunity to explore, which I kinda, sorta do. But I hate been stuck in the middle, kinda in the loop of things. And it scares the crap out of me, that my life will keep changing unexpectedly. Some people get a thrill out of that, I don't.

People give that image of living the good life. Everything is perfect in their lives. They don't have bad days. -Bullsh*t! We all have them. And for me, the perfectionist, to admit that my life is a little out of control, takes a lot from me.

I know one day my life will be a little more stable, but the path to get there, is frightening. I've been through more hardships than I would care to admit, and sometimes I don't think I'm strong enough for any more. Of course, I do, but I don't want anymore of them. Not for a while anyway.

Now I'm just trying to find a way to release some of the anguish, fear, doubt, stress that I have. When I was younger I use to write...a lot. I saved all the poems that I've written over the years. But after one terrible breakup, I stopped. I didn't want to document such a pain, because I didn't want to remember it. There have been times, when I've wanted to write again, but I don't, for that simple reason. I don't want to remember.

However, last night was the first time in so many years that I actually couldn't contain the words to myself. I wrote, knowing that I would have this memory written for me to remember. But I also remembered how much better I felt afterwards. I guess this is the first step to "finding myself." Figuring out this life, my life. Trying my best to make it the best. I'm still a work in progress and that's ok.