Where to Next?

For the first 18 years of my life, I had things figured out. My journey was a road map, destinations checked off one by one. I would go to school, I would get a job, and I'd probably be married by the age of 25. Kids were an uncertainty, as when I was twelve, I told my mother "either I'll be a single mother, or I'll be married without kids because I'm not sure I'll be able to love more than one person that much". I was a pretty wise twelve year old - that thought still creeps its way in now and again.

I think it was common for young girls to have this road map laid out for them. And for the first 18 years of my life, I was on track. Then when I was 18, I decided I should travel through a program called Katimavik. That was the first time I realized I might actually want to live in the woods in a lodge by myself, where I learned to bake bread from scratch, and had about million crushes on hippies I ran into.

I returned to Alberta after eight months, and I went back to my road map. I went to post-secondary, and I got a job, and I was on track to be married by the time I was 25.

The truth hit me when I was 24 and became single after a six year relationship. My identity wasn't banked on the fact that I had a partner, or that I would be on track to get married by a certain age. But in that moment, I stepped off my road map, and I realized for the first time in my life, that I never had a back up plan. 

Once I accepted that life had not gone according to the plan, other pieces started to fall apart. That job I had planned to have for the rest of my life, and spent the last five years working hard at? I hated it. My social life? Completely sucked. My hobbies and interests? I hadn't cultivated any. I was an empty vessel, travelling through space, following the plan that had been laid out for me. Focusing on the shoulds and avoiding the coulds or wants. My life was put together on the outside. People would tell me how jealous they were on my success and my hard work. But in reality, nothing was making me happy, and I wasn't being myself.

The truth is, when it boiled down, that hippie-loving, live-alone-in-the-woods Jillanne was still somewhere in there. And road maps were really never my forte. (Ask my husband, I am directionally challenged, even with GPS)

So...in the last four years, I've managed to go back to school and find a job I'm passionate about. Turns out, I found the job before I finished school. And now I'm facing another month until graduation, with no real plans for it, because I've found my peace for this chapter. I also found a new partner, and maybe wasn't married at the age of 25, but feel I was much more equipped to do it in this recent period. I know this isn't the end of the new map, but I'm happy to stay here for as long as my cup is full. I've studied business management, but I want to live in the woods some day.... 

Somehow it will all come together. I'm not really sure how, but I'm confident that there's a house somewhere in the woods, where there's a perfect future of "volunteer-addicted-creative-digital-media-guru-and-manager" with lots of brownies and an endless supply of rich coffee. I'll hold onto my resume for you. Until then, I'll continue to serve my purpose where it feels right.

The Hormones Linked to My X Chromosomes

I'll throw you all for a loop here:

Women Get Emotional

Sometimes, I'm not sure why I'm emotional. Today, my dog woke me up from a nap because I was bawling in my sleep. Ask me to recollect what my dream was? I have no idea, but I know the solution is ice cream.

On Sunday, I attended church. 

Now, if you know me, you know I don't practice religion. I have nothing against it, but that's a discussion for another time. I went to church for my nephew's christening, but something the pastor said struck a cord with me. He talked about leveraging resources. He made an analogy to a plant, where it draws resources back from the leaves when the roots are dry. When a human's roots are dry, they draw resources from relationships, their time, their own hobbies.

I've been really good at pretending certain resources are more valuable than others.

I've forfeited exercise for family. Even though I've told them I have an exercise class, and they schedule our time together around mine, I only have enough mental capacity to deal with socialization or physical exertion. So I've told myself family is more important, and then promptly napped through my exercise class.

I've forfeited baths for homework. That's right, some nights I choose to finish an assignment instead of showering. I've mastered the art of styling my hair to look less greasy.

I've forfeited time with my husband for a routine for the dogs. If he's spending a long day away from the house, I make a point to work early in the morning, and come home when he's not, so that the dogs aren't locked in a kennel for more than 8 hours. But this means I don't see my husband for the day, as I have to jet off again to class for the evening most nights.

I've forfeited rational thought for HORMONAL RAGE AND TEARS AND BLOOD

When I've depleted all my resources, my X chromosomes act up, and I forget why I'm sad, or angry, or both. I've stressed time and time again that I am not an average woman, but in this, I hope I am normal. If not, I might need some good old hormone therapy.

This is the NSFW Part

I've ruined so many pants. So many pairs of underwear. I've actually stopped throwing out ruined underwear and commit myself to endure the stains simply because my budget can't afford to replace them. The thing is, women have periods. Mine are more ghastly than some women I've spoken to, but regardless, periods can actually do something to us on a hormonal level.

But here's another thing: it doesn't just happen with periods. 

Women are sensitive, hormonal, and chocolate-craving demons even on their best non-period days. I know there's a lot of media out there that talks about how women can be just as dominating and in-control as their male counterparts, and they can be. However, let's not completely erase our knowledge of hysteria, here. It's not worth sterilizing women over, but female hormones do exist, and they do need to be acknowledged. 

Is it so wrong for me to blame my irrational outbursts on my hormones? Is it wrong for me to wake up crying from naps, and chalk it up to "being a woman"? That's what I am, and I can't deny it sometimes makes me feel like a crazy person. I think I'll continue to blame X chromosomes once in a while. It's a better excuse than "clinically insane".