on being a dreamer

sometimes i fear that i will never find her.

her (pronoun)- some sort of version of myself that is out there. somewhere. she looks exactly like me except she is established, brilliant and bold. she knows what she wants. and she gets it. 

and, sometimes, i fear that i will.

fear is a funny thing.
so is ambition.
and the force that shoots back and forth between them, sometimes multiple times in a day, is nothing short of exhausting.

it is the fear that perks up and says
why can't you be happy with the life that so many other people live?
a life of 8-5, kids, marriage and a sunday sermon where someone tells me i am a good person because i have all of the above.
why must you aim for the stars?
the stars are far.
the stars are high.

and it is the ambition that says
my dear, you are a force to be reckoned with.
you go after what you want
and you get it.

and somewhere between acknowledging what i want and fearing what i want and philosophizing about what i want, it all becomes too much.

i desperately wanted to be outside today.
today was a day for hands to be thrust into soil, for sun on my face and for finger tips grazing leaves.
but spring, and my awakening, has yet to arrive.
by the time the coy sun disappeared, i had to get some air.

i cranked open the window and lay beneath it.
taking big gasps of cold, supposed-spring air into my lungs.
and damnit, it felt good.
and before i knew it, i felt tears form in my eyes.
at first, i resisted.
and then...

you have been strong for so long.
grant yourself these tears.
these tears are a release.
you deserve a release.

and then i wondered

who made me feel so damn guilty about crying in the first place?
so guilty that i feel ashamed when there is no one else in the room
so guilty that my tears become an enemy. 

instead, they are an opportunity.

with each tear that strolls down my cheek, a very tiny weight has been lifted.
fear streams out of my eyes, down my cheeks and into oblivion.
fear has no place here.

a little while later, i found my face in the mirror.

aren't you just a sight to behold?

and the face peering back at me was surely me. a little bit swollen. but still me.

me (pronoun) - who i am right now. brilliant, bold, and not even a little bit established. dreamer. in love with too many ideas, people, pets and one man in particular. fearful. bold. bold. bold.

in the end, there is no solution.
there is no enlightenment.
not yet.
there is passion and a dream and recognition of that dream.
there is love.
there is a desire for a stubborn i-don't-want-children woman to immediately change into a wooed i-want-YOUR-children woman.
there is a woman who wants it all.
and like so many women before her, has to chose because having it all is not always an option.
and, to be blunt,
that choice fucking sucks.

last week, in a scene dimly lit by the supposed-spring sunlight, i chatted with a friend

i am hoping that when spring comes,  it will bring clarity.

me, too. 

i said as i gave her a big hug and off we went into the unknown abyss we call life.
both fearful.
both bold.
bold.
bold.

the core of it all

when i first told my mom i plan on leaving the province to get an education

she responded with

but what about your boyfriend?

oh, yes. what about him?
as a woman, i am expected to cater to my partner's needs and desires.
but, what about mine?
why is it so difficult for people to grasp that i would be a solo woman in a strange place chasing dreams with no inhibitions.
why is that so problematic?

i cannot help but make the connection between that uneasiness
and the uneasiness that rears its head when i say

kids? sure. but only in ten years. and i only want a month or two off then i want back in the office.

but who will care for your children?

it may be a tad presumptuous, but i assume they will have a father?
i assume they will not just spring out of the earth
and i assume that he will be more than capable to care for them.
yes, i assume a lot of things.

but so do you.
you assume that i will find fulfillment in children and marriage and a home.
you assume that i am not capable of carving out my own path without the hand of a man
and you assume that i need said man to be whole.

but, the thing is,

just because i am a woman does not mean i will plot my life around a man nor will i plot my life around the other things you think i need to be whole as a woman.

and i mean that. i truly, fully, wholeheartedly mean that.
and if that is where this little tale could end, wouldn't that just be simple?

but it is not.
the life of a twenty something is never so simple because
i completely lose my senses when it is 2 am and i wake to the weight of his head on my shoulder
or when i have to stand on my tip toes for a kiss and think that this standing-on-tip-toes-thing ain't so bad

and, truthfully, it might it be nice to have some one say

i will chase you to the edge of the earth just to hold your hand a little bit longer.

yes, i think it might be.