I always imagined myself as a childless professional, flitting from affair to affair as I pleased. While my friends looked forward to meeting rich husbands, then shooting babies from their vaginas (their own, not their husbands, that wouldn’t work) while languishing poolside at home like docile bovine, I dreamed of being a corporate lawyer. Money hungry and devoid of meaningful relationships. A simple parade of willing and attractive young men, who I could enjoy for micro-flings as i saw fit. My bizarre child self had American Psycho ambitions – a female Patrick Bateman, but perhaps a little less homicidal. Unfortunately, I was wracked with a nervous disposition that would trample these sociopathic dreams in to the mud.
Instead, the strangest series of events happened. I dropped out of school due to crippling near-suicidal depression and got a job at a fast food restaurant . At 19, after several years of fun and self-destructiveness, I met an older man. He was funny, smart, opinionated and financially secure. We quickly moved in together and married shortly after my 21st birthday. This isn’t going to be one of those “I married too young and it was a mistake” stories – I regret nothing. We had epic fights, but we also had a shit ton of fun in those early years.
Eventually I decided it was time to get qualified, I was never short on brains, and I still had dreams. Husband however, wasn’t prepared to make the sacrifices that I needed him to make in order for me to achieve them. I don’t hold this against him, they were huge sacrifices involving leaving his job and everyone he knew in order to live in a town best described as Jack Frost’s arsehole, all while financially supporting my full-time study.
Husband, had dreams of his own. He wanted children before he was 40, and time was ticking.
Kid’s had never been on my radar before, in fact, they terrified me. Now here I am, eight years later, on the brink of divorce (all the cool kids are doing it, you know) with two weird and wonderful children. Life would be a lot more secure if I had some kind of career, but I’m glad that I took the road I did. It wasn’t the plan, but sometime the universe knows best. I’m lucky to have been able to spend the last seven years as a Stay-at-Home-Mum. My kids have needed me at home, particularly my daughter who has ADHD and High Functioning Autism. But she’s in school now, and my son starts school in November, and I’m staring down the barrel of single-parenthood, so I have to start looking for work.
Kids still kind of terrify me though. I’ve seen Children of the Corn.