When I was a girl, I wanted to be an artist. I had thought through how I would like my life to be, even visualised a typical day. I followed my dream in the formal way, GCSE, A Level, University Degree. Then I realised that I wasn’t actually that good at “art” and terrible at being an “artist”. I really didn’t have anything else in mind to do, so I bumbled around various shops and temporary employment and accidentally found a desk job. The hideousness of this forced me to rethink my future and revisit my hopes and dreams.
As unlikely as it may sound, I decided I wanted to work in Museums (some people find museums boring whereas I had always escaped from the present day into history and Museum collections). I buried myself in this new ambition and didn’t really lift my head again for a good few years and midst museum career.
While my thirties rambled away a new vision crept in, a kind of life opposite to that I had. I wanted a family. I wanted a husband to adore and be adored by, I wanted a home and children. I wanted a home teeming with children and I my biggest concern would be their happy upbringing. I met a man, he became my husband and a beautiful baby boy followed. Unfortunately along with my boy came post natal depression. As the boy turned 1 I was waving goodbye to PND and enjoying my life as mum, reveling in everything he did and looking forward to his next steps. I feel recovered. I do not have PND anymore but I am still trying to get my head around the scars it has left behind. I had planned out my life and if I was following my plan I would have 2 children by now, but my life has changed. For many reasons, not the least being PND, I don’t want anymore children. I am mourning the wonderful life I had dreamed of and must come to terms with the fact that my hopes and dreams have not quite been fulfilled, and probably never will. I must not dwell on the regret I have that I didn’t look down at my beautiful baby and think “you are my beautiful baby” that I will never think that was the most wonderful moment in my life. Those days are over, they’re gone and I can never have them again and I must not dwell on them. I think that, in the most positive way, my boy is enough for me. So I now have to tweak my dream, make plans for what I should do when he goes to school, create a another new typical day, reset my hopes and dreams…