A path without picket fences

I almost cried in Ikea yesterday.

Up to this point, I’ve somehow managed to remain quite emotionless about all of this. Since I made the decision to move forward on this path, I’ve been focused on the logistics of it all, getting all my ducks in a row.

I haven’t really stopped to check in on myself. Maybe I’ve been scared to; maybe my subconscious is protecting me from becoming a blubbering mess, preventing me from second guessing and doubting myself, and the choice I’ve (finally) made.

I never wanted this. A child, yes. Like this, no.

But time waits for no man, nor does it wait for aging ova.

So, back to Sweden’s greatest export: I was browsing in the Ikea marketplace, occupying my cart with storage and organization items.

While standing among the kitchenware, I noticed a couple discussing their preferred dinner plates. It was uneventful, completely normal. Something totally unnoticeable to anyone else. Yet for some reason, I was suddenly painfully aware that I was not choosing a dinnerware set with anyone. Nor would I be anytime soon, even though I was planning a pregnancy.

I had to make a conscious, steady effort to prevent tears from escaping my eyelids amid the throng of Sunday shoppers.

Sometimes, pain can become so powerful that you feel it physically. You may fall to your knees, perhaps a gasp will escape your lips, or maybe clutch at your chest, as if you could somehow soothe and hug your heart.

Hurt can sometimes be felt in your bones. Standing in the middle of Ikea yesterday, I shuddered with the chill of self pity that coursed through me.

I blinked. Hard, and quick. Pushed back the threat of a liquid requiem and propelled myself forward in the maze of merchandise.

I kept myself busy for the remainder of the day, cleaning out the hall closet and bathroom cupboards as I had originally planned, finding homes for my newly purchased wares.

I blared music from my Bose while I sorted, piled and purged. I sang. Some songs I felt in my bones, too.

I did eventually let a few tears fall, quietly and alone, as I walked amid the frozen earth and freshly fallen snow, my dog galloping beside me.

It is hard to swim against the current, and at times, that’s what this feels like. Society dictates what is expected of us without apology, and from a young age we begin to expect it of ourselves, without even our own awareness. It’s only when you don’t fit in the mold that you realize there was a mold in the first place.

Some days, I’m sure I’ll relish in breaking said mold, in writing my own happy ending; a new age fairy tale. I’ll find joy in figuratively swinging an axe to white picket fences.

Other days, I’m certain anguish will hit me in the gut, and I’ll cry my eyes out.

Hopefully, one day, when I get where I’m going, how I got there won’t matter.