Okay, this isn’t actually a secret if 1) you know me at all and 2) you ignore me when you know I’m lying.

I keep saying I don’t want kids, that I don’t want that domestic life, but I am lying to you.  And to myself, for that matter.  But it’s easier to believe a lie than to think the truth.  Part of it is fear (most of it?) but part of it is something else.

I remember, distinctly, when I was in high school, my aunts on my dad’s side all told me that if I was going to go to college and get a degree (which seemed likely and obviously happened) that I couldn’t be one of “those women” who got a degree, then got married and didn’t “use” it.  And of course I promised them that I would do no such thing.  If I was going to get a degree, of course I would use it.

And then I got not just a bachelors, but kept going and signed up for a masters degree.  And with the admonitions my aunts playing in the background, I told myself that if I was going to get a masters degree, then marriage, and especially kids, had to be off limits.  Because I couldn’t “waste” my education.

I’m not blaming them entirely for my decisions.  There are many other factors in place that play into my perpetual state of singleness and my refusal to be consistently open about my true hopes for life.  But I do know that, for whatever reason, they were influential in some way.

But what if I do want to get married someday?  What if I still find myself most content keeping house?  Is it really such an awful thing to want a family and the domestic life?  I know I’m intelligent, but why is it still seen as a waste if I want to have kids and stay home with them?  Shouldn’t mothers be intelligent, too, or how else are their children going to stand a chance?  Or the budget?  Or the household in general?  And it’s not as if the home would ever be my only priority.  Let’s be real here.  I’m involved at church, I volunteer, I have friends… those things wouldn’t change (although they might change slightly in appearance).

Not that a person can make these decisions by themselves anyway.  But I suppose I want to be open to the idea.  And I am, on the inside.  The hard part is admitting it.  Even when it’s in my best interest to do so.

Oh, life.

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