For almost my entire adult life I have been some body's something. Girlfriend, wife, mother. I have never been just me. When I was young(er), I loved being some body's something. I always had a serious boyfriend. Then I got engaged. Then married. Then had kids. Then divorced. Never one to learn a lesson easily, I almost immediately started dating again. And when I say dating again, I mean serious dating. Not dating around. Not sowing any oats, wild or otherwise. I was living with my brother and segued right into living with the guy I was dating. Again, I got engaged. Again I got married. Again I had a baby.
At first I was happy. Proud to be a wife and mother. Little by little things changed. I changed. But as time went on, I began to resent being some body's something. I wanted to be just me. In charge of just me.
I realized thirty years too late that I was never meant to get married. I can't stand things to be the same for too long. Always moving my furniture around. Always coloring my hair a different color. Hell, I can't even keep a car for more than two years. One time I had four different kitchen tables in a time span of two years. I don't know why this is. Why this constant quest for change. But, it's a just that. A constant quest.
I remember as a young girl, my best friend's parents were divorced. I grew up in a time when this wasn't nearly as average as it is now. I distinctly remember thinking, Mrs. So-and-so is so lucky. She gets to do whatever she wants, whenever she wants. She doesn't have to keep anyone else, but her daughter of course, in mind when she makes decisions. "What should we do for dinner tonight?" she would ask us. Ha! That would never have flown with a husband. If she wants to come home from work and slip in to her pajamas at 5:30, she can. If she wants to go out with people from work, she can. She was so much more fun than all the married moms I knew. Much more carefree. And she was a great mom to her daughter, I'm not trying to imply that she didn't take care of her as well as any of the other moms I knew, but she was so much less stressed.
I'm not trying to sound all Mad Men 60's here, like everything had to be okayed by husbands, but when you're married, you have to take your spouse into consideration when making decisions. How will this affect him? Would he rather I didn't do this? He's a meat and potatoes man, he'd never agree to scrambled eggs for dinner. Will he be worried about me if I don't come right home after work? She didn't worry about any of that. I think that's why she was so fun. I think that's why I spent every waking hour at their house.
Why didn't I remember these feelings before I walked down the aisle the first time. Or at the very least, the second time?