live my life on my own terms, not trying to live up to the expectations of others

When I was five, I wanted to be a mommy.
At ten, I wanted to be a writer.
Fifteen, I wanted to be a college professor.

My parents latched on to the college professor idea. They loved that I got (almost) all A’s, dual enrolled at the local community college, and volunteered. They loved that until the age of fourteen I clutched to my Bible, and swore by it. They held the hope that I would be a professor, a magazine writer, a musician, something glamorous that lifted them beyond the idea of software engineer and housewife they lived out. They thrilled at the prospect of my attending the honor’s liberal arts school in Florida.

Then things changed.

I transferred out of the college into a public university to be near the boyfriend I had started dating a week before I left, who they blamed for me leaving the Christian faith two years before. They cried over the prospect of me giving up dreams to be with this boy. And now, I’m seriously considering changing my major from History to Education. I want to be an elementary school teacher. And I’m moving out in March (if I get my license on the fifth) to be with him.

God help me, I’m learning to be happy for myself and disappoint those around me. I just found out my entire extended family is disappointed in me for leaving New College. I don’t even know what they’ll think of me when they find out I’m living with a guy and training to be a teacher in the public school system.

But you know what?
Fuck them.
I’m happier than I’ve ever been in my whole life.

One of my good friends told me last night that he liked the person I was becoming. That I was more confident.

He encouraged me to hold on to that, even though I’m moving back in with my parents. Which means the temptation will be there to slid back into who I was instead of staying who I’ve become.

He’s not the kind of person who gives out compliments regularly.

It pretty much made my night.

At one point, I had accepted that I would likely spend the rest of my life single. I was fine with this, happy even. I know it sounds silly to say that a girl of eighteen had accepted being single for the rest of her life, but… I knew that I could never live happily with any of the guys I had met, and my life plans grew around the expectation of independence. Now I’m in a relationship that promises to last the rest of my life, and I’m deliciously happy. Now I’m trying to shift my life plans away from single to together. As I move through this, I’m trying to remember my dreams, and trying to adjust to a new period of my life without compromising myself.