Closing out year 30: A reflective outlook toward my future self in motherhood. Struggles of a working mom of young kids.

I was in the middle of a report at work when I made a hard-stop for lunch break - partially because I need to eat something to produce enough milk for my 7-month old and in part because I could use a mental break from a demanding Monday at work. Too drained to leave my desk but wanting a creative outlet, I open up an empty text document hoping to fill it in order to quiet the storm raging in my mind of how I've been feeling lately. Not knowing where to start, I'm grateful my mind catapulted into thinking about what my future holds for me. I start to bring up memories of a very distant past, a very different childhood self. I wonder what kinds of progress I would have I made if I was talking to my ten-year-old self. What kinds of dreams I would have fulfilled by now.

I am jolted back into reality by the sounds of clinking ice in my co-worker's tumbler as he comes back from lunch. Here I am sitting with my legs crisscrossed in my office chair, squeezing out every remaining bit of freedom before my own lunch break ends. I've got on headphones listening to YouTuber Kalle Flodin expressing his very vulnerable reality of escaping the "matrix" so-to-speak. Flodin abruptly quit his 9-5 job because he felt his life goals and purpose were incongruent with how he spent his time. So, in pursuit of a life of meaning and deeper purpose, he found his way out by leaving the city to build a life in the woods. I sigh with heaviness - all to realize I yearn for a way out this rut. Not in the sense of moving to the woods, but to find my own sense of fulfillment that simply wasn't glorified or even taught in schools.

"Something about this is kin to insanity - being stuck in survival mode."

I think about all the days where I come home from a full day's work drained, but still have to find the energy to push through another "shift" to keep my house afloat - to clean, to cook, to take care of my young children and reconnect with my husband; rinse and repeat. These are the very days that start as if a bandage is prematurely being ripped from a wound as I have to say goodbye to my children and brace for another long day without their presence. Something about this is kin to insanity - being stuck in survival mode. I am not apt to sustain a life like this, nor was I made to, I remind myself. My heart flushes with emotion and struggles to grasp that what's at stake is, well, life itself. What seems like an anxiety attack could also be my sense of purpose rousing me from a deep slumber that I've allowed to comfort me for too long. For all that's good and lovely, I cannot continue to clock in-clock out on someone else's time, knowing they're getting the best of me. I am simply becoming unwilling to sacrifice any more of my precious time while I see that the real life is happening without me.

While I sit in this office of busy bodies often silent yet buzzing with the obligations of project deadlines and client check-ins - just chugging along until the grind is over for the day (only to start again tomorrow), I ponder a new reality. A reality that is filled with the things I want it to be filled with and nothing else. "What could that look like?", I dream. I begin to hear the speckled cries of laughter from my two children and the joyful hum that I perform while imagining myself sewing while comfortably poised in a rocking chair. I start to imagine that the sun that kisses my skin is coming through a stained glass window as I watch my little one dance in its colors against the floor. My eyes locked with my dear babe as the aroma of oven-baked bread fills our noses, ready to eat another modest home-cooked meal together. There's only a finite amount of days my children are yet young. And I want to be there to catch a glimpse of their blissful realities while they are still part of my reality.

Could I have imagined, at age ten, a life now filled with so many doubts and questions at the rightful age of 30? I may have just assumed 30 was a lifetime away and by now, surely I would have it all figured out. It's irony at best: I've found quite the opposite to be true, that as life progresses, I only ever have more learning to do.

The truth is, when I think about old age now, I wrestle with wondering if I would be filled with guilt or, rather, accomplishment. Deep down I know that these years ahead will be the ones I might look back on with the most fondness. Young tender children at my feet, a selfless husband by my side, and the life we are fighting so hard to make our own. I'm learning what it means to be a Godly wife, a loving mother, a caring friend, and most importantly a daughter of the Most High - the process has been eye-opening for how I view my relationships and the limited time I have been given to build them.

"...inviting mistakes along for the journey is absolutely necessary, and the key is to learn from them and not loathe in them."

Recently, I inquired about my own father's retrospective views on raising children and how he perceived the future when he was younger than I am now with twice as many children to raise. We talked about all sorts of things along that thought line - finding babysitters during his and my mother's time in college, choosing where to call home, investing, job opportunities that were passed up in the interest of commitment to family, traveling with kids on a budget, the list goes on. It was evident that he strived hard for the life he wanted for our family, and that was largely built with intention, love and sacrifice. I also noted some of the moments that were "lesson learned" experiences, and it made me realize that inviting mistakes along for the journey is absolutely necessary, and the key is to learn from them and not loathe in them.

I've asked myself some really hard questions, like "what does my current life say about my priorities?", "what do I want my children to grow up and remember about their childhoods?", "what could I let go of or change for the outcome to align to my life's vision?" and most importantly, "am I willing to make those changes?"

My father also pointed out that when he was younger, he viewed people who were 10 years older than him as if they were ancient and gilded in wisdom. Only in his more recent years did he discover he wasn't too far away from being as old as they were - it is all perspective. It again reminded me about the girl I was at age 10, and how I then thought adulthood was many moons away. Yet, here it is, my life's portrait painted hopefully not even halfway; what an interesting picture it is turning out to be. As I reflect, I also realize something pivotal about the future. It is the understanding that I have a paintbrush in my hand and, for the things I can control, I can paint my biggest dreams into reality.

In every effort to not let life merely happen, we should fight for the life we want to build ourselves. I don't want to wait until regret rears its ugly head, as there is already so much time that has come and gone. So, my husband and I put together a plan to be in alignment with our vision: I yearned to be home to raise our children. After months of planning, I can finally feel good about trading a 9-5 career in order to accomplish some bigger goals in life, like raising a family, growing a business and having more freedom. And yes, this decision involved some sacrifice, discipline and creativity. But in the end, we imagined a beautiful picture together, and then decided to paint it, too.