letting my guard down
It’s been a minute since my last post. The fear of perfection has paralyzed me as I don’t want to share subpar content. I haven’t had the time to truly pour myself into my writing and as a result I’ve posted nothing. I scribble in my journal all day long, yet none of it has made its way onto the internet. Turning my word vomit into crisp and concise blog posts has been a never-ending struggle. It’s a task I avoid in favor of long dinners with friends or watching an episode of Riverdale (trash but excellent trash).
I’ve been thinking a lot about the nature of relationships recently. Why two people would choose to forego their independence and blend their lives together. I’m jaded after years of caring about people who don’t match my enthusiasm. I have an irrational fear that the people in my life will leave once they get annoyed of me. I’m personally very abrasive around men and always have my guard up. I want to be treated as a powerful equal rather than a dainty flower.
So what led me to behave this way? I’ve been filling in as my own therapist until I find a new one (that my insurance covers lol). I grew up in a culture that expects women to fulfill a very specific role - one that involves pouring cups of chai and always putting the men in your life first.
“good girls don’t do...”
“you’ll never get married if…”
“it doesn’t look good if girls…”
These sentiments echoed throughout my upbringing and I always resented my mother for wanting this life for me. Why does my worth solely reside on what men find attractive? Why do I need to spend my existence catering to another?
The concept torments me and I overcompensate by being very in your face about a variety of topics; prenuptial agreements, separate bedrooms, maternity leave, split bank accounts. I joke about how kids make me nauseous or how I’m a bad cook. I’ve unconsciously committed to the role of anti-wife. I’m so fearful of succumbing to what is expected of me that I’ve gone out of my way to make sure it never happens.
The twisted truth of the matter is that I want the entire bag of chips and more! The doting husband! The stucco house! The ivy-league children! The Friday family game nights! I want a tea set that puts the other housewives to shame. I want to stay at home for a few years to raise kind, humble, and intelligent little humans. I want to hit every PTA meeting with gluten-free snacks and run a company at the same time.
I know that I am perfectly capable of fending for myself. We live in an era where women have the ability to do whatever they please. The #girlboss revolution. I can choose the suburban path or one where I end up alone sans kids in New York. I can fix you a plate of daal chawaal because I love and respect you, not because it is my sole duty as your wife. The freedom resides in the ability to choose whatever path makes me happy.
So that’s the tea! I’m letting my guard down going forward and choosing to be softer. To be strong and dynamic, yet tender and kind. We are multi-dimensional human beings who are capable of encompassing it all. I always assumed that if one spent enough time with me they’d realize who I truly am at my core (gentle, supportive, affectionate). That I accidentally got stuck in my 15 year old heartless means heart less Tumblr phase. That the toughness I portray is an elaborate act to hide the turmoil within.