Next month, I’ll be heading (sans kids AND sans husband… Mwahahahahaha!!!!) to my 20th Grad Reunion. Oh, the giggles I have had emailing back and forth between the old gang and I….. I know it’s going to be a fun time. There is no one in the world like your old high school friends.
Anyways. It got me thinking about what I had set for goals in my life at that tender age of 18. All you have to do is pick up the Sparwood Spartan 1989 yearbook, leaf through until you see a picture of a girl with a back-combed ratty blond hairdo (Gawd, the 80’s were harsh on hair, no?) and read my insert on the list of achievements I was totally going to do. Well, according to that girl back then, I should now be living somewhere in a large city, probably working for some sort of music medium, maybe a magazine, perhaps television, or (considering technology today) more likely an internet music blog of sorts. I would have possibly been married or even more possibly been linked to a variety of (HOT!!!!) musicians and I would NOT have had any kids.
Hmm. Something along the way went way off track.
Here I am, a mom of two, and a stay-at-home mom to boot. I live in a rural area, I have a hard-working hubby, and my joys and greatest accomplishments are so totally polar opposite of what I assumed I would be way back then, that I marvel at who I was back in the day. I mean, I garden now. And I like it. WTF? My 18 year old self would have been horrified.
For me, it comes down to realising that my underachievement of my dreams allowed me to accomplish something much more meaningful to my heart.
Don’t get me wrong. I know I sit and wonder the what might have beens sometimes. Perhaps I might have had a more glamorous existence. Maybe my career would have allowed me to spend copious amounts of money on things that I find now to be conspicuous and unnecessary. I might have travelled the world, met famous people, lived in a flat in London. Marking my life through achievements on paper. Or perhaps, I would have ended up running a small town newspaper. Either way, it doesn’t matter.
I ended up being exactly who I am supposed to be. And here’s the kicker. I’m glad. Really, really glad that I am who I am now.