What do you mean you don’t want kids?!?!

Yeah. I’m starting the post about not wanting kids with an analogy about kids.  Follow me though…

So you know those kids who constantly ask,

‘But whhhhhhhhyyyyyyyy????’

Well that was me but not literally cuz my mum would have smacked me, but def in my head.  Eventually this little girl grew up to start asking why out loud.  First just quietly to myself and eventually so loud that I could no longer ignore it.

I asked myself WHY I wanted to get married.  Is it to have a wedding? Nope, not into it. Is to declare in front of God, my family, my friends that I’ve found someone I want to spend the rest of my life with? Nawww. TBH I don’t care much about that either.  It’s only important for me to make that declaration to my partner. The rest is just a formality.  We’ll leave it there for now because this post is really about:

Why don’t I want kids?

The short answer is that if I have to think sooooo fucking hard to come up with a reason to want them, then sorry not sorry; I don’t want them.

I draw on all the reasons other people give for wanting kids. One that I get often is, there’s just nothing like it. True. But so long as that’s the case, I don’t know what I’m missing and I’m PERFECTLY cool with that. Because where I stand now, I don’t feel like I’m missing anything.

It’s def not because I’m afraid to be a mother or think I wouldn’t make a good mother.  Quite the contrary my friend, I know I’d be an awesome mum. And if I had an unplanned pregnancy I would love that kid more than life itself.  Knock on wood, but if that does happen and it’s years from now, and my kid is reading this:

Mofo I loved you from the moment you existed.  You just weren’t in the plan.  You will learn if you haven’t already, that life doesn’t always go to plan but it doesn’t make it any less valuable or meaningful – So fix your face!

I’ve been told by some friends who’ve been around long enough that maybe it’s because of the large age gap between myself and baby brothers.  Because like any big sister, I learned my time wasn’t actually  my own time and I learned to do a lot of things on my own while my parents focused on their babies who needed them most.  Because I was old enough to see my brothers go through the stage where they disrespected my parents and took them for granted.  Able to see my mother hurt from feeling devalued; which I’m sure I did to her too and I’m also sure is not unlike the experience of many mothers.  I know what I’m describing is not unique and of course I’m not telling you about all the moments of pride and joy that I know my parents also experienced.

But none of this changes that I just don’t have that innate desire to want children or marriage or that happy lil’ family unit. Being a mother isn’t on my list of aspirations.  I don’t question your desire for those things.  I don’t ask you why you want them and TBH I don’t give a fuuuuccckk.  Do you boo!  Be happy.  I will however ask myself why? Why do I want those things? And I just can’t find a reason that is truly meaningful to me. Not. One.  If you’ve got a problem with that, well, that’s just what it is…  YOUR problem.  I can I assure you, I lose no sleep over it.

What you might want to do though – if you’re not doing it already; for your daughters, for future boss ass babes, is not put so much energy into making other women feel bad just because they make a choice that’s different from your own.

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Not for everyone

This past year has been a lot of soul searching for me.  Fuck, more than just the last year but the volume of self exploration I’ve been able to do in the last year most certainly far outweighs the last five.

I found that in all my past relationships I was searching for someone to care for.

Because taking care of, whomever, whomever except me, is a task that’s been ingrained in me for as long as I can remember.  Can’t say exactly how it was nor do I care to; just accept that it was.

I can appreciate that’s not how all relationships work, or at least how they’re supposed to work.  Both partners should take care of each other.  Yah, I see that and raise you this:

Maybe I just know how to take care of myself the best.  Maybe there just isn’t someone(s) out there who can take care of me in the way that I need.  The person inside of me doesn’t know how to need someone because I learned early on that needing leads to disappointment; a lesson only further reinforced with subsequent experiences.  If I knew how to need someone, I’m certain I wouldn’t have lasted this long.

I propose that maybe everyone isn’t meant to be in a relationship with someone.  Maybe they’re not built for it, not wired to compliment and be complimented by someone else.  Maybe they’re meant for many great things, but one of them isn’t that romantic kind of love.  And what kind of dick move would it be for you to say that those great things are any more or less valuable than that romantic kind of love?  A Big. Dick.  Move.  That’s what kind.

So I’m convinced this is the case.  I don’t want your unicorn, sunshine and roses story that ‘You just haven’t found the right one(s) yet.’  Truth is, I wouldn’t know what to do with them if I did.  I don’t know that I’m capable of feeling or at the very least showing the love they would need, deserve and expect from a relationship.  Just not sure I have it in me.  All signs point to an uphill battle; one that I don’t expect anyone to stand for.

I wouldn’t.

When first we practice to deceive…

Shit gets heavy real real quick…

(Title is from a quote by Walter Scott)

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What is it about some of us that makes it so easy to discount the basic human tendency to look out for one another???  I’ll just add the disclaimer that I have not, repeat, have not lost faith in humanity.  You may have noticed I’ve been gone for a minute;  I’m exploring.  What follows are some observations I’m sorting out.

I’m not even talking about when we pretend we don’t see the homeless person asking for change or when we cut someone off because we just have to get where we’re going one second earlier.  I’m talking about how easy it is for us to switch off our humanity (Vampire Diaries anyone?) and completely ignore or not care about how our behaviour will affect someone we care about – I guess that’s open to interpretation.  Or at the very least someone we know cares about us and would rather throw themselves on a sword before seeing us get hurt.

What makes us cheat?

Is it lust?  Boredom?  Loneliness?  Is it our inability to control ourselves, to keep our desires under wraps?  I’ve been cheated on before. Or I should say I’ve been cheated on and found out about it before in a blaze of anger, ferocity and inexplicable pain while on day two of a ten-day vacation with my partner.  I can tell you that the most unbearable part for me was the feeling stupid part.  Because no one makes JJ feel stupid.  Because she isn’t stupid, not in the least and all I wanted to do was burn everything to the ground.

I’ve also been in a relationship that I knew was over.  Stayed far past the time I should in a situation that lacked passion and sex among other things.  I’m a very sexual person, so to be without carnal intimacy essentially had me not myself.  As hard as that was, I didn’t cheat.  Why?  Well why would I?  What is wrong with you to make you actually ask me that question?  It wasn’t a fear of getting caught.  I wouldn’t do it even if I knew I would never get caught.  That’s not the point.  I have an innate desire to not hurt people.  Don’t you???  But seriously, I want to know, if you believe in your heart (or your lower regions) that cheating is okay, tell me why.

I’ve also, on more than one occasion (far too often really), unknowingly been made an accessory to a cheater.  Now this is some fucked up shit.  I’m wondering if the fact that I don’t want to be in a relationship automatically brands me as side chick…  Naw man.  I want to be free; but that means you should be too.  Polyamory is one thing – however I assume in this case all parties are aware of the stakes.  What’s the most fucked up is not even making me an unknowing participant to the affair.  I can accept the bigger picture here;  I’m nothing but a blip on this timeline.  What’s really fucked up is how one is able to do this to their partner.  Regardless of if the relationship is going well or not, there are expectations.  However unique the nuances of those expectations, I’m certain fidelity is a hard limit.  If you’re not into it, GET.  THE.  FUCK. OUT.

I don’t even need to get into karma.

We know all about it and clearly some of us do not accept its existence.  I’m really curious as to what is wrong with us as people.  Not in a why-don’t-we-do-more-about-those-starving-on-the-other-side-of-the-world kind of way.  I’m talking about how we can so easily ignore what our behaviour does to the person sharing our bed, lives and by all outward appearances, our future?

Are You Trapped???

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This idea of being trapped has been lingering around me for some time now.  I hear it mentioned more than I’d like.  Thing is, I don’t feel it.  Or at least not in the way it’s intended.

I’ve found myself in situations I’ve wanted to get out of.  Some more difficult than others but I will say that I never felt trapped by the situation.  I have felt trapped by myself.  Knowing the trapped feeling is transitional.

When I decided to study fashion arts and had to work full-time concurrently to pay for it, I made a promise to myself.

I promised myself that I would suck everything I could out of the program.  Go 200, all day, everyday, no matter the cost.  I barely slept.  I ate poorly, if at all.  I didn’t train.  But I finished with a 4.0 GPA and more importantly I was overflowing with skills and perspectives I could have only dreamed of obtaining otherwise.  And the cost?  Well the cost was 40 lbs of extra weight.  Forty pounds and I knew exactly where they came from.  Not sleeping.  Not eating.  Not training.  As my previous identity was all wrapped up in being a competitive cheerleader and training 5-6 days a week, this was hard for me to reconcile.  But I didn’t feel trapped.  No chance because nothing can hold me boss, promise.

I knew exactly what needed to be done but I also knew they were not changes I could make quickly while maintaining their longevity.  I needed to make them slowly.  I did and continue to do so.  The only reason why I’m able to do this is because I know that I am the determining factor.  I’m the only one that can allow myself to feel trapped.

This is in my bones.  I believe it in all aspects of my life; above all.

I am not trapped.  I am only caged if I allow myself to be.  The difference between where I am now and where I want to be is defined by…

How much sweat I’m willing to give.

How many tears I’m willing to shed.

How much pain I’m willing to stand.

How much work I’m willing to put out.

How much shit I’m willing to eat.

How much patience I can squeeze out of me.

I am not trapped unless I allow myself to be trapped.

And I don’t allow it.

 

How to: Patience AF

but patience is HARD

I’ve been quiet for the last little while but quiet doesn’t mean stagnant.  I’m working.  My head is down, my eyes are open, my mind is processing.

Werk.  Werk.  Werk.  Werk.  Werk.  Werk.  Every once in a while I poke my head up to take a look around.  Take a look back.  A quick check to what I’ve left behind (won’t miss you) and glance forward to make sure I’m still in line for what’s just ahead (and further still).

Promising myself that I will be patient as fuck and failing every once in a while with a volcanic eruption of anxiety prompting me to check & correct myself.  Reminding myself that…

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I’ve realized that while I’m the one in my circle that people come to when they want a raw, uncut opinion, I don’t often take my own advice.  Tried a little experiment the other day when I was feeling especially anxious and worked up about something.  I wrote down what I would say to one of my friends if they came to me in the same mental state and then made a voice recording of myself saying it.

Listening to my little rant two nights in a row was enough to kick those negative vibes.

I realized that the reason why I communicate in this blunt, tough love kind of way is because that’s the type of communication I respond to.  While it doesn’t work for everyone, a lot of people respond to it as well.  If you’re one of these people, try it.  It couldn’t hurt – just saying.

There’s something to this recording and listening to myself talk to myself as crazy as it sounds.  I’m sure I’m onto something.  In the meantime:

Werk.  Werk.  Werk.  Werk.  Werk.  Werk.

Patience.  Patience.  Patience.

Why apologize for being authentically you?

The miseducation about 30 something women

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As I’ve got a fresh new piercing and on the brink of completing my half sleeve, I recalled a comment made to me along the lines of women in their thirties having a late 1/4 life crisis scenario and rebelling against, well whatever it is they feel they need to rebel against.  Desperately attempting to feel young again.  I’m guilty of this judgement too just a few years ago and now I feel like a royal bitch (and not in that boss ass bitch kind of way) for thinking it.

I remember being at the hair salon many times in my early and mid-twenties, getting every kind of funky colour you could imagine put into my hair.  The ladies a bit older than I was at the time stank eyeing me heavy.  Mind your business boss!!!

I remember a pretty thirty something woman once.  She was getting her blonde touched up but steady creeping the pink in my hair.  Do it!!!  She hemmed and hawed for a bit and eventually went for it.  I thought to myself then,

“This poor girl.  So afraid to try something new.  Something she clearly wants.  So worried that what?  It will make her seem undesirable?”

But to whom?  And why should that matter if it feels good to you?  Yet also thinking, how lucky to feel so liberated by a single decision.  “She wants to feel young again” and now feel guilty for those thoughts.

Thirty something ladies making moves aren’t having a late 1/4 life crisis or any other fucked up label you want to put on it to make yourself feel better for your own fears and complacency.  They are coming into their own.  Accepting who the are.  Making decisions on the grounds of that zero fucks given platform necessary to create what ever happiness means to them.

They aren’t trying to be something they’re not.  They’re doing the polar opposite.  Being exactly, truly, authentically who they are.

Maybe even for the first time in their life.  Rejecting projections that were forced upon them.  Embracing that they are their own women.  Acting not without consideration to what others think but with conviction for what they think.

Unapologetically. Exactly.  Who.  They.  Are.

 

Why embrace those negative vibes???

Should it always be good vibes only though…

I had one of those moments this week.  You know the one.  Where everything seems like it’s crashing down around you and there’s no end in site.  Where everything else is forging forward and you’re left behind.

No attainable goal in sight, or there is, it’s just so far away in your eyes that it may as well not be there at all.

I was tempted to push these negative feelings away.  To pretend this wasn’t happening, to convince myself this wasn’t really what I was feeling right now.  To say, ‘calm the fuck down J; let this shit go’.  This is what I usually do because maybe if I pretend it’s not happening, then its not real.

And then I checked myself.  Nawwww.  Let’s feel this.  Let’s feel all the anxiety, pressure, frustration that is this moment.  Let’s fucking soak in it (but not drown) and feel every last sorry, uncomfortable, impossible, unbearable second of it.  Absorb it all until there’s nothing left

And use it.  As fuel.