The meaning of life

I find myself wondering about the meaning of life every day. It’s easy to get up at 7am, brush your teeth, feed your cats, check the litter box, make sure the coffee is set, shower, shave and all of the numerous other robotic things you do in your life to get prepped for the day to come ahead.

But as time goes by, and you realize that every day is the same …. do you feel like you have accomplished what it is you are looking for? Are you truly happy? And what is happiness : is it love? money? professional accomplishments? stability?

As I think about the road I have traveled, I realize my priorities have drastically changed. I was once an Air Force brat, torn between 2 cultures and can probably safely say that I moved 30+ times in my life. No roots, no real childhood friends or memories.. just someone who jumped in and out of reality of others that had their fate waiting for them.

At first I was jealous. Everyone I know has a history : a past, a belonging, that brings them together. People remember the “good old days” when you could ride a bike without a helmet, or when cigarettes were cool and drinking under legal age wasn’t an issue. They remember who had braces when, who got their first DUI, which kid in junior high was the first to get his first car….

But now that I look back on my broken life, I realize that it may have saved me from the dreary reality of what today’s society calls “standard”. By standard I mean, by “American” standards. Everyone in this country is married by 25, has 2 children, generally gain 50 pounds in between, go through mid life crisis, and divorce ensues.

I never wanted that for myself. I wanted to be with THE person I felt was the closest to me. A South African man once told me that he was waiting for the age of 32 to marry his girlfriend because he felt that was the timeline when people divorced and he could proceed gayly through life. He admitted he never loved her, but believed this was how he could avoid this situation.

I, stubbornly, have always believed that the real partner is waiting out there. I haven’t searched enough. I always expect that knight in shining armor to ring the doorbell one day and say “ok, I’m home darling”. Unfortunately that is the case of many single women around the ages of 40 today : those that preferred to focus on their careers versus sign in on the “standard Stephardville” life that everyone dreamed of in the 50s.

So what is the final truth? Settle and be done with it? Have 2 kids, pretend to be soccer mom, invite “friends” once a month for a routine brunch and go to church every week to be ‘that’ person? Or be yourself and find your true calling and hope that you wind up with the person that really comprehends who you are and what you are made of before committing to something long term.

I would rather be alone and die alone happy, then spend my life miserably with the pretence of having a husband and children just because society dictates it. I’m a rebel. Some say it’s selfish. I say it’s self preservation.