More often than I like these days, I find myself really, deeply envious of other people. It usually doesn’t even make sense. An acquaintance had a baby a while back, and I sobbed. I was almost literally sick I was so jealous. Which seems reasonable, maybe, except I have absolutely zero interest in having children. I mean it–I was sobbing hysterically over this baby that I, even at that moment, did not want. I was envious of what the baby meant, not the baby itself.
Which is a way of saying that I am deeply jealous of people who are more settled than we are. People who are at a stage in their lives when they can choose to have children, to buy houses, to put down real roots somewhere.
It’s at once a silly thing and not. Silly, because we’re in this boat on purpose. We stayed in school longer, and moved around more, than most people our age. The net effect is that we’re something like five years behind our (non-academic) friends. To the extent that it isn’t silly, I think I’m reacting to the fact that we don’t have any real future goals. I think not wanting children takes away the urgency of settling down, but my temperament is still one that really needs to do so. Our life is just, unfortunately and for lots of non-public reasons, not in that place right now.
I’m trying to do my “settling down” into this place I’m at right now, but it’s always a work in progress.