Two days ago, I turned twenty-five years old. I haven’t been this unhappy in quite a while. I feel like I’m still sixteen, with the exception of feeling more exhausted and rundown than I have ever been. I thought I would have moved out of my parent’s house by now, but instead I decided to do traditional life steps slightly backwards. Instead, I’m living at my parent’s house with my eight month old baby and my boyfriend of a little over three years. I feel more stuck than ever not having a career, having started my own family, and trying to save for a place to call our own. To me, it is unbelievable that this is my life at twenty-five. I had such different aspirations for myself by the time I’d reach this age. Evidently, I didn’t envision that this is where I would be in life. I guess I’m just disappointed in myself. I could have and should have done better.
Don’t get me wrong. I’m grateful for my baby boy. I’m grateful for my son’s father, my boyfriend, who loves me despite my imperfections. I’m grateful for my nurturing family and for my parents giving us the opportunity to live here. Not only does this help us save money quicker to have a better start for our family’s future, but this also gives me the ability to stay home with our son. As thankful as I am to stay home with my baby, it definitely is not as glamorous as staying home with your own precious baby sounds. Every day is still a challenge and some days it takes every ounce of effort within myself not to completely lose my mind.
Since the moment I stared at the little white stick that spelled out the word “pregnant,” I miss my old life. Every. Single. Day. If someone told me a few years ago that when I turned twenty-five that I would have an eight month old child, living under my parent’s roof, not even engaged, with no promising career, I would have thought they were absolutely deranged.
But everything changes so much year to year. I presume things are supposed to get better, right? I won’t be stuck here forever.
This time last year, I was utterly focused on my pregnancy. Throughout my pregnancy my mission was to stay positive for the sake of my unborn child. Around this time last year we found out we were having a boy. That moment was unreal. The year before that I was battling heartache and had no idea where I was going to end up. I had no direction and felt incredibly lost. Looking back I dealt with my emotions in a pathetic manner and I wish I had done things differently, of course. Three years ago, I was happy. I was in (what I thought at the time) the best romantic relationship. I was vastly ambitious and busy. I truly enjoyed my life and felt as though I was legitimately going places. Four years ago, I was just beginning to come out of a depression. It felt refreshing when I was beginning to feel better. It took an immense amount of improvement within myself. It took me a great deal of mental awareness, physical exercise, and taking things day by day. As some would say, back to the basics. When I broke out of that low state, I was in what I call my prime. I was twenty-one and in the best physical shape and mental state of my young adult life. How do I get back to that?
Those few years ago I had all of my time to myself. It was easier finding the time for self-improvement. All it took was some motivation and perseverance. How do you do that as a mother? How do you find the time for yourself, to take care of your own mental and physical well-being? I’m having a tough time motivating myself to get anything done, let alone to improve myself. Between not getting enough sleep, and caring for an eight month old (which entails so much more energy than I could have imagined,) and still trying to be a decent girlfriend, how am I supposed to recover back to my prime?
I stayed up until one in the morning the other day just so that I could paint my toenails. Which, by the time I was done, my son woke up right as I was about to go to bed. That was impeccable timing. Exhausted the next day is an understatement, but at least my toes looked pretty. So is that what it’s going to take? Staying up until one or two in the morning to do little things that make me feel better about myself? I thought as your baby gets older it’s supposed to get easier. Well it hasn’t. In fact, it has been more of a downward spiral of my well-being.
So instead of being happy (or even just content) at twenty-five, I guess this year is going to be the most strenuous yet. It’s going to be attempting to find the time for myself to improve myself while fulfilling the role of motherhood. Trying to find time when every minute revolves around everyone else. I need get back to refilling the motivation and perseverance I had four years ago. I need to get back to the basics.