As I was thinking of what to blog about this morning, I realized that I sort of forgot how to write about my life. I have random ideas of what I’d like to write down, but they remain ideas. I can’t fully convey them in a written–or typed–way anymore. Is it my lack of patience or my inability to focus on anything BUT research papers. Sometimes I’d like it if my life came with an encyclopedia that I could cite. Of course, that’s not happening, so I must take the time out to actually focus and contemplate my life. Writing has always been therapeutic for me, and I don’t want it to become a “must-do” task, but sometimes, I have to force it upon myself to free up the tension between it and I.
I think it’s about time I start taking control of my life. Honestly, so far, I’ve let life control me a little. It’s easier that way. Things just fall into place sometimes, and it’s nice not having to make decisions. When I felt myself getting stressed last week over what to make for dinner, though, I knew it was time to reevaluate. Deciding what to make for dinner should not make me want to curl up on my couch eating chocolate ice cream while crying and watching Sex and the City. It shouldn’t upset me that much.
When I was fifteen, I had a “plan” for my life–married by age twenty-one(check), finished with school by age twenty-three (not going to happen), buy a house and have a baby and an awesome career by age twenty-five (yeah, right). As we all know, plans usually don’t work out. Why, though? What happens in between? Life, of course … But when do we stop controlling how our life pans out? When do we lose the grip we have on all of those big plans?
While I’m okay with not receiving my Bachelor’s degree until I’m probably twenty-five, I’m sometimes not okay with the fact that I may be nearly thirty by the time we’re ready to start a family. I told Husband the other day that I’d rather just get my Bachelor’s degree, have a baby, and go back to school for my Master’s when the baby is old enough to start school. (To do what I want to do, I need my Master’s.) Is that realistic, though? Is it idiotic to have a “plan,” even though I know it probably won’t pan out exactly in the way I want it to? There’s a time in everyone’s life in which we must allow life to take control, allowing the chips to fall where they may … But when is the appropriate time to take back the reigns and steer life the way you want it to go?
