This is why I need to find my MRS. degree

Last year, I took a course called First Year Seminar. Although it was required, you could pick the topic you wanted the class to focus on. I chose the FYS revolving around journaling and tapping into your inner self to find peace. It sounds like a hippie-dippy weird class, but it was actually a lot of fun. For our final project, we were required to write a “book” about ourselves. We could fashion it however we wanted but there were a few requirements regarding the way we wrote our book. This is one of my entries from that time. I wanted to post it because in retrospective, it’s pretty hilarious. I don’t hold all of these opinions anymore, but the core of the piece still remains true:

 (This is me from Freshmen year, pretending to be a turtle. As you can tell, I've just changed oh so much.)

I WANT A FAMILY!! There, I said it. When you ask kids what they want to do when they grow up, they’ll say things like a doctor, a fireman, a ballerina. I changed my mind constantly. I never knew what I wanted to do. The one thing that remained constant was my need for a husband and babies. I think I admired my parents and the way I was being raised. I know that my call in life is to be a loving wife and mother. If I could major in that, then I’d be set. Too bad they don’t offer MRS degrees anymore (as in Home-Ec degrees). I wasn’t supposed to be born now; I was meant to live in the ‘50s, prime housewife time. 

Okay so my whole life I haven’t been as upfront about my incessant need for a family. In fact, you could have called me a closet housewife envier. I mean, honestly, you can’t be in 8^th grade looking for your future spouse. I guess reality struck me like a hard household appliance when I came to college. I realized that I actually went to school with MARRIED COUPLES. Those jerks. I’m happy for their happiness, of course, but at the same time I envy them so much. On top of going to school with married couples, the course work is just ridiculously difficult. I have no idea what I want to do with my life, just find my husband.

It used to be a healthy obsession. It used to be something I would eventually gain in life. Now it’s like I see a baby or small child and my uterus aches for the lack of fetus in there. I’m not creepy, I promise. I’M JUST SO MAD. I suppose I could just have a baby with any ol’ person; but that’s not what I want. I want to meet the man of my dreams, fall madly in love, and then have babies in a loving environment. My mom always tells me I’m too young to be worrying this much now. And I agree. But it’s different. Not many people understand that just because I make a huge deal out of it does not mean I want to quit the life I have now and run away with an old Spanish millionaire because he’s feeling lonely and I’m getting desperate. 

My heart is broken. I describe it as a large hole in my heart, and it won’t be complete until my call in life is complete. I guess the waiting is the hard part. It’s hard to be patient when I very much know what I want in life. People think I’m crazy. Maybe just a little bit. But recently I discovered how ridiculous I was acting. So now I’m trying to just enjoy life and let it play out, but I know even if I enjoy life now, eventually I will feel that need again. It’s my calling. It’s what I’m meant to do. Hopefully when the record spins around again, the song will be different. I mean, I am already eighteen, time’s a ticking!