Growing Younger
In my mid-to-late 20s my asshole roommate’s lover’s child was left unattended to find and play with the tools of his trade, chef’s knives, while my roommate and his lover spent time in his bedroom. Fearing for the child’s safety, I put away the knives and distracted the kid by reading him a book. When he crawled on my lap I could feel my uterus quake. I always assumed I would have children. But as the ticking of my biological clock became impossible to ignore, I began to interrogate this assumption. I realized the main reason I wanted children was because I couldn’t imagine how else I would fill my time. I wanted something to do. I wanted purpose.
It became clear very early in my career that my work alone would not provide sufficient purpose. I care deeply about my vocation. I chose it specifically because I thought helping people would be rewarding. And while it is often is satisfying as well as intellectually stimulating, it's not enough. The idea that if you do something you love you’ll never work a day in your life is a capitalist fairytale IMO. I dunno, maybe I’m wrong. Maybe work never makes you feel tired, burnt out, stressed, resentful, annoyed, boxed in, or bored. But for me, work has always felt like work and I have never wanted it to occupy all my time and energy.
I also knew that being able to have children was not a guarantee. People of all ages struggle with fertility and I only wanted to have kids when I had adequate financial resources and a stable, loving relationship. So without the guarantee of children or a penchant for workaholism, I realized I would have to do everything within my power to build a big, beautiful life worthy of filling my time. And I did. Building a big, beautiful life actually became my purpose. Time passed, my life evolved and expanded, and having children receded as a priority as I approached the “fertility cliff” of my mid-to-late 30s.
I turned 44 this week, and though the stars never aligned for me to have children, I have ended up doing a lot of parenting. Building a big, beautiful life, it turns out, has required learning how to adequately parent myself. Being a good parent to myself looks a lot like being a good parent for a small child. I have endeavored to treat myself with love and nurturance, protect and provide for myself, and offer myself ample opportunities for joy and enrichment. Internal Family Systems may refer to good self parenting as being “Self-led.” Adult Children of Alcoholics refer to this self-parenting as developing an “Inner Loving Parent”. However you want to think about it, building a big, beautiful life requires parenting oneself, regardless of whether or not you have children.
My friends and I on a scavenger hunt I arranged for my 44th birthday.
Here are some ways to self parent:
Ensure your own survival–Meet your basic needs of shelter, food, water, sleep, love, and belonging. Doing so is the foundation for everything else.
Nurture yourself–Be mindful of your inner critic and work on building self talk that is supportive, kind, and compassionate. To have the courage to build a big, beautiful life you must know that you will treat yourself well if you fail.
Build trust with yourself–Make commitments to yourself and then honor them. Set boundaries with yourself and others and maintain them.
Be strict sometimes–Sometimes acting in our own best interest means pushing onself to do what we need to do instead of what we want to do. Psychologist Kristin Neff describes this kind of active, strong, protective actions as “fierce self compassion.”
Attune to yourself–Like you might with a small child, get curious about your own inner experience. Notice body sensations, gut feelings, and intuition and respond accordingly.
And last but certainly not least…
Provide opportunities for fun and play–Adults do not grow out of their need for joy and enrichment. Do the things you loved to do as a child, try on new hobbies, take classes, read books, learn, be silly, play games, and take making time for leisure as seriously as you would for any child in your care.
While prioritizing fun and play may seem trivial or hedonistic to some, I believe that maximizing enjoyment honors this incredibly precious existence. We are only alive on this inconceivable rock hurtling through a vast otherwise lifeless universe, shrouded in this meatsuit we call a body for a blink of an eye. What better way to embody gratitude for this unique and uncommon gift than to enjoy it.
The older I get, the younger I feel. Of course I look older–crows feet, grey hair, less elastic skin–but inside I am more curious, openminded, carefree, and full of wonder than ever before. And I owe it all to developing an inner loving parent.