My dogs in the new apartment.
Sometimes I talk about my dogs to people. Ok, I talk about them to people a lot (I’m one of those “dog ladies” it seems). And since moving to NC there have been a couple times that I’ve told new people about then and they ask more questions and eventually get to where I live and it appears: that look of judgment that I have two large dogs in a 1 bedroom/ 1 bath apartment. And I just smile and acknowledge it’s not the best situation but that I take them for plenty of walks and they are well exercised and loved and taken care of. Because isn’t that what matters?
But every time some variation of this comes up it leads to a whole internal monologue of what I WISH I could tell them, and that goes something like this:
“Yes, I know, it’s not ideal to have two large dogs in a 1/1, but to be fair that’s not how I planned it. No, I had a different plan. A plan where my ex didn’t abandon me with two dogs, a cat, and a house payment. A plan where my living space was only going to grow over time. A plan where I had another person to share the burden of walking and bathing and feeding and XYZing for the animals. A plan where I was married and had things figured out. A plan where my mind wasn’t consumed with the multiple variations of answers to “well how what?” depending on my mood. A plan where I was on track, ahead of schedule, and being awesome. But instead of my plan I’m a 27 year old divorcee starting over. Trying to figure out how to date like an adult. A person who is juggling a completely re-arranged life and, after watching dreams disintegrate, is trying to figure out what new dreams to work towards. I’m just trying to figure it out as I go along. Trying to adjust and adapt to this new version of life which, while I’m sure will be brighter and better in the long run, is still an adjustment and still not easy. So yeah, we live in a 1/1 with two very adorable, very spoiled, very well exercised and taken care of dogs. Any other judgments you’d like to make?”
Life didn’t go as planned. I’ll be ok, I’ll be better than ok but still… it’s an adjustment that I wasn’t planning on making. As a type A personality I struggle with the feeling of “failing” and being off schedule. My 5 year plan (which I actually wrote out and updated regularly) has been derailed. While I know the divorce was definitely best for me it’s still hard to not frame it as a failure in some way: failure of effort, failure of initial judgment, failure of faith.
This move was a move to start over but this move just seems to constantly be reminding me of my grand plan that didn’t happen. It’s paralyzed me to plan again. What’s going to happen in five years? I have no fucking idea. I don’t know if I’ll find a partner, I don’t know if I’ll have kids, I don’t know professionally how things will pan out in this new place, I just don’t know.
Not knowing is frustrating, liberating, and scary as hell.
This isn’t the life I had planned… not by a long shot.
