No matter how old I am, how mature I feel, or how far I manage to get, I will always remember exactly how I felt at certain ages of my life.
The days where black leotards and pink ballet slippers meant everything that is pretty and perfect in the world. The Barbie that you just HAD to have. The hairstyle that ever single girl in my class was wearing flawlessly, except for me. The jeans I couldn't quite fit into. The acne that somehow dotted my face more pervasively than my peers. The lack of attention from males. The desire to be kissed. The longing for a boyfriend. The having the first boyfriend. The primping before prom.
Sometimes, I wonder if I've managed to grow up at all. I may look more grown up than I did at 18, and I certainly am more mature in some aspects...but I can't help but wonder how far I've actually come.
The more I think about babies...the more reading I do...the more I find myself wondering whether or not I'm really grown up enough to have one of my own. Chronologically speaking I'm definitely ready. I've graduated from high school, college, worked on my master's...I have a job and I'm married happily. I have a (step)son that I couldn't love more...and I'm genuinely ready to hold my own infant in my arm's...but...
I still feel like that lost little girl. Not the one in a tutu and tight bun...she had no fears and life was nothing more than sequins and flowers given for twirling...but the one who never knew that it mattered how you wore your hair. The one who had never been kissed. The one who still has never had a Valentine.
I struggle with questioning how I can raise a child if I'm still working on raising myself?
I suppose that I should emphasize that I am NOT pregnant. Nor has there been a concerted effort to even conceive yet...it's just...the thought and the will...and the desire in me is enough to scare me. And I think that it's a good thing to be scared...to an extent. Having, and subsequently caring for, another human being is the greatest commitment, honor, privilege, challenge, and responsibility that I can imagine and...am I REALLY ready?
I've been married for just under 4 months. And I couldn't be happier. But if 10 months ago you'd ask me if I was prepared for marriage I would have answered no.
I never ceased to be amazed at how life ensures that you're ready for things...even if you still have questions. And doubts. And fears. I assume that one is never 100% ready for anything that happens...from taking the morning shower (who doesn't want 5 more minutes of sleep) to buying a house (can we say long term?)...but where there's a will, there's a way.
I'll never lose the 16 year old awkward version of me...and that's a good thing probably. She keeps me humble. And the tiny ballerina with her painted red lipstick and sugarplum dreams reminds me that life is beautiful, and that there are nothing but possibilities if you just know how to look...
What really matters, though, is who I am today. Who I will be tomorrow. And who I know I can be.
Who I want to be.
I'll get there. In the meantime I'll continue to question, to ponder, to fear, to hope, and to dream. And honestly? I think that's exactly how it should be.
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