In a couple of months, I will leave age 23 behind forever. I realize that I am still young, but for the first time in my life, I am not happy about reaching my next birthday. When I was a kid, I couldn't imagine myself not wanting to get older. Now, I can't imagine wanting my age to increase.
For as long as I can remember, I have had well-established dreams and goals for my life. By the time I hit middle school, I had a plan. I would go to a small university, preferably one like Campbell University, and major in something government related. Hopefully a fellow I wanted to date would come along during that time. I would graduate with honors and use that education to make a difference in the lives of the unborn and their mothers facing crisis pregnancies. Marriage would follow on the heels of college, preferably to a man modeled after my childhood best friend. While I continued to work with ministry to the unborn, my husband and I would start our family.
Until last year, everything went more or less according to plan. I actually went to Campbell University and graduated Cum Laude with a degree in Public Administration. Ten weeks after graduation, I married the very same childhood friend I had held up as a model for my dream husband. I even got to date him for the entirety of college. A few months after our honeymoon, I got a job working at a pregnancy resource center that dealt mainly with crisis pregnancies.
That's where things started taking a detour. In a year and a half of marriage, I miscarried two children. Between that grief and dealing with past trauma, I sank into a very deep depression. No sooner had I begun recovering from that, I began to have seizures that cost me my job and ability to drive.
I realized a few weeks ago that my dreams and goals have never extended past age 23. By this time, I thought I would be raising at least two children. Aside from continued work in crisis pregnancy ministry, my dreams would surround my children - caring for them, nurturing their personalities, helping them to realize their dreams.
Ironically, I am a mother of two children, but my babies are in heaven. They don't need me to raise them or help them with their dreams. My service in ministry has been put on hold because of my health. Partially homebound in too quiet a house, the highlight of my week often is going to another medical appointment.
Dread of my next birthday isn't really about the fear of getting old. There is no magic youth cutoff at age 23. It just happens to be where my dreams cut off. And that is scary. I feel like I'm reaching the edge of a cliff and have no choice but to either hang glide off of it and hope the wind holds me up or plummet down into the dark abyss of extinction.
This is a new chapter for me, because I have no more road map. The detour has become a completely new path that may never connect back up to the one I was following before. I am on a journey, but I have no idea where the destination lies.
As frightening as it is, I invite you to come along with me on this brand-new adventure. Many of you share similar aspects of my own situation, and I want you to take comfort that at least someone else out there understands. Perhaps you are reeling from dreams being put on hold or laid to rest. Perhaps you are grieving your children as I am grieving mine. Perhaps you are a mother who has realized that she still needs dreams and goals for herself. Whatever your circumstances, I hope you find encouragement, hope, and maybe even humor as we all discover together that there is indeed life after 23.
For as long as I can remember, I have had well-established dreams and goals for my life. By the time I hit middle school, I had a plan. I would go to a small university, preferably one like Campbell University, and major in something government related. Hopefully a fellow I wanted to date would come along during that time. I would graduate with honors and use that education to make a difference in the lives of the unborn and their mothers facing crisis pregnancies. Marriage would follow on the heels of college, preferably to a man modeled after my childhood best friend. While I continued to work with ministry to the unborn, my husband and I would start our family.
That's where things started taking a detour. In a year and a half of marriage, I miscarried two children. Between that grief and dealing with past trauma, I sank into a very deep depression. No sooner had I begun recovering from that, I began to have seizures that cost me my job and ability to drive.
I realized a few weeks ago that my dreams and goals have never extended past age 23. By this time, I thought I would be raising at least two children. Aside from continued work in crisis pregnancy ministry, my dreams would surround my children - caring for them, nurturing their personalities, helping them to realize their dreams.
Ironically, I am a mother of two children, but my babies are in heaven. They don't need me to raise them or help them with their dreams. My service in ministry has been put on hold because of my health. Partially homebound in too quiet a house, the highlight of my week often is going to another medical appointment.
Dread of my next birthday isn't really about the fear of getting old. There is no magic youth cutoff at age 23. It just happens to be where my dreams cut off. And that is scary. I feel like I'm reaching the edge of a cliff and have no choice but to either hang glide off of it and hope the wind holds me up or plummet down into the dark abyss of extinction.
This is a new chapter for me, because I have no more road map. The detour has become a completely new path that may never connect back up to the one I was following before. I am on a journey, but I have no idea where the destination lies.As frightening as it is, I invite you to come along with me on this brand-new adventure. Many of you share similar aspects of my own situation, and I want you to take comfort that at least someone else out there understands. Perhaps you are reeling from dreams being put on hold or laid to rest. Perhaps you are grieving your children as I am grieving mine. Perhaps you are a mother who has realized that she still needs dreams and goals for herself. Whatever your circumstances, I hope you find encouragement, hope, and maybe even humor as we all discover together that there is indeed life after 23.
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