Anonymous
I wasn’t sure whether to put this into ‘My Stories’ or ‘Moving Forwards’ because whether I feel like I’ve moved forward or not depends on the day. This year was big for me – I turned 40, I took myself off dating apps, I consciously took steps to not do things that I didn’t want to (that involved other people’s children), I spoke out more about my confusion over my childlessness, and I went on a long, solo trip. I think about my childlessness less. The gut wrenching and the confusion and sometimes the isolation – it feels less prominent in my mind. The present, what I have, what I can do, the freedom – that is more present in my mind.
But there is often something that knocks me back. My oldest friends all met for a weekend to celebrate our 40th back in May. It was fun, and celebratory, but I felt like the odd one out, and by the end I was exhausted. Despite knowing these women for nearly 30 years and having so much shared history, so much of the conversation was about their children. I felt the stomach clenching and familiar feelings of being the odd one out. At the end, as we were saying goodbye, one of my friends husbands and children appeared to take her home as I surprise. It was the final straw, and I quickly said goodbye and I sobbed the whole way home in the car. I wrote a letter then to one of the women and really explained, perhaps for the first time to this group of solid, long term friends, how I felt like the odd one out, how I wished it was as simple as being able to say ‘oh, I just don’t want children’, but I can’t say that, because it’s not the truth, and how the complicated feelings I have are just sometimes so overwhelming I can’t even acknowledge them. That is when I do not feel like I have moved on.
Then a few months later I took myself off and did a solo road trip around parts of Canada, driving 2500 miles, just me, lots of national parks and cities, a carefully created playlist and my thoughts. Except I didn’t think! I had planned it to be a trip of consolidation of my 40 years so far, and working out my thoughts and feelings for the future. Except I just mainly thought about the road, and what I’d see, and what I’d eat, and the big sky, and the car behind me, and none of the big thoughts I thought I’d have. And I realised that perhaps that is what the trip was for – not to have made any big plans or revelations, but to have a break from those thoughts which plague me all the time in my normal life.
Now I am back, and some of the familiar thoughts are there. They raise their heads at strange times – is there anything more confronting and weird than walking past a group of families, all united with their children? I feel like I have to justify my existence, my solo-ness; in reality I probably don’t, and I know that no one is thinking about me as much as I’m thinking about myself, but that’s how it can feel.
I don’t feel at peace with where I am, because I still haven’t figured it out, but maybe somehow I feel at peace with the uncertainty of that. I’m not sure I could give up my freedom for children. For anyone. But then there are still so many things that I think I would like with a family, and for my parents to be grandparents again, and to form those connections with people. And that is why it is complicated! It is also complicated because I still can’t work out what are my feelings, what are my desires, what is actually achievable, what I want to spend my time and money trying to make happen, and whether underpinning it all is thousands of years of society telling me I have to live my life a certain way otherwise I am The Other.
So maybe I haven’t moved forward, maybe I’m still where I am, but I don’t think I’m further back. But I will keep going, with hope, hope that at some point I will feel peace.
