I've been thinking about what I wrote yesterday and also about how I realize bullying can't be blamed for where I am in my life. I'd say that most of the time I never even think about my childhood, except in my dream life. Sometimes, because I have lived in the same town since birth, I even bump into some of the people I knew in school and I remain unscathed.
Just because I'm a statistic (over 50 and never married and single) that matches the adult aftermath of childhood bullying doesn't mean I'm excused for how my life turned out or that it even serves as an explanation.
There are so many reasons: I never met anyone who felt the same about me, I never really experienced an active dating life and (most important to me) I never had the courage or defiance within me to break through my family's expectations that I literally live the straight (pun intended, or is it no pun intended?) and narrow life.
We are all responsible for our own actions, at least to a huge extent, in many situations. I could have tried harder with my looks, eaten less food, been less selfish.
I also know that deep down I didn't want to end up alone and where I am in my life now. I am unbelievably aware, as a childless cat lady and celibate lesbian, that I chose the path still frowned on by much of society. I'm not saying I chose to be gay (I firmly believe no one does) but that I chose what to do about it, if that makes sense.
Most days I am fine with my childless cat lady status (no matter what Mr. Vance says about women like me). But on the days I am not fine and I hear the unhappiness in my mother's voice because I never married (a man, obviously) or I see unwelcome pity in long ago friends I bump into at the grocery store I can't think of a good defense. I see what they see, a woman who is so unappealing and out of sync with the rest of the world, she is faking almost all of her daily actions outside the home.
Where I work is a family-centered place so I am around "normal society" every single day I'm on the job. Women with multiple children (especially when all are under the age of five) come in and I practically hyperventilate at all the responsibility and work that must come with that. I don't see the joy that I know is there, that I refuse to see because it will force me to recognize my colossal failures as a woman and daughter. I convince myself they are faking at their lives just like I am, but, truly, I know I'm only kidding myself.
I think back to when a boy in one of my classes back in high school told me he saw a future cat lady in me and that I should just go ahead and accept it. For years I was able to laugh at that, then lovingly embrace it when a cat actually did come into my life (a cat I love more than I ever could have imagined, by the way).
But now I wonder if I were a more deserving person, more acquainted with the right ways of living and the looks and personality I need, if I couldn't have been a cat lady and a person with both humans and feline as family.
No comments:
Post a Comment