When one door closes…

I actually felt quite guilty after pressing publish on my last post. There are people out there with real problems. People who are suffering from ill health, spending every day in pain yet still managing to live their lives as fully as they can. There are people who have lost their children, to illness, or suddenly to accidents. Genuinely difficult, heartbreaking situations that I can’t even imagine having to face. Then there’s me moaning on about problems that are mostly caused by my very own brain. But I’ve come to the conclusion that it’s my blog, and if I can’t write about my feelings here then where can I? That said, I think my last post may have come across more negative than I had intended. I don’t want anyone thinking I hate my life… far from it! I love my job and I love my boyfriend. I still enjoy living in Germany. Most of the time I’m pretty happy. But it’s always a little disappointing when things end, and realising that something I had always (naively?) thought would be in my future – namely me settling down and having a family – is now very, very, very unlikely to happen is an ending of sorts. Okay, so maybe there is a slim chance that my boyfriend will decide within the next year (i.e. while it’s still possible for me to have a child before I turn 30) that settling down with me wouldn’t be that bad, but while the door may not quite have closed yet it’s, at best, ajar, and even I know that pinning all my hopes on that little crack isn’t going to get me anywhere. I’ve spent too much of my life waiting, hoping that the obstacles on the path I wanted to take would disappear, or at least become surmountable. Recently I finally realised that that isn’t how things work. And I thought I had come to terms with it, but the fact that I still feel sad when other people get married or give birth tells me that I’m not quite there yet. I will get there though, all I need is time. But since I can’t expect other people to stop living their lives while I get used to the fact that mine needs to go in a completely different direction, a direction I haven’t managed to figure out yet, it may take a little longer. Much as I would love to, I can’t go and live in a bubble until I’ve figured out where I’m going! So I shall continue to blog about how I feel, even if my feelings are negative at that moment. Happier posts will come though – promise!

3 thoughts on “When one door closes…

  1. Maybe these realizations that you are currently experiencing are part of the whole approaching-age-30 thing and therefore perfectly normal. I once read somewhere that one’s twenties are for BECOMING what one eventually IS in one’s thirties (and then one’s forties are obviously for changing one’s mind!:D). Although we don’t often think of it that way, a lot of growing up is still happening in one’s twenties, I guess.
    And yes, you just carry on writing about what you want to write, Bev, and don’t worry about what others may think. They don’t have to read it, do they?

  2. Definitely a turning 30 process that I think most women go through who don’t yet have children. I know you don’t want to be ”old” when having kids but my dad was 39 and my mum 35 when they had me and they are both fighting fit and now happily playing with their grandchild. Plus whilst I was youn’ger’ when I had my son, most of my friends here having kids are 36 plus. My son’s aunt is having her first at 42 without an medical assistance! Try not to get down and don’t feel guilty about expressing these feelings, hey, that’s what blogs are a fantastic forum for! Big hugs x

  3. pinklea – if it’s a turning 30 thing does that mean I have 2 and a bit more years of this? Oh, the horror!

    missbea – it’s not so much being too old to play with my children that bothers me. When they’re children parents’ ages are irrelevant. But I saw the relationships my friends with “older” parents had with their mothers as teenagers and vowed to myself I would NEVER be one of those old, out of touch parents. My parents were really young (too young actually) when I was born and as a teenager I had so much more freedom than a lot of people, I could always bring boyfriends round (while my friends were lying to their parents about spending the day with a friend so they could go and meet the boyfriend they weren’t even aloowed to have!), was allowed to drink (in moderation) throughout my teens, so didn’t go out and get stupidly drink the minute I turned 18, etc. etc. Then there’s the fact that having my FIRST child at 36+ would severely limit my chances of having more than one. And that’s assuming I ever even find anyone to father said child. Far better to accept now that it’s not going to happen. Preferable to being disappointed later. This way I might even be pleasantly surprised…

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