You can laugh, but I don’t care.

People think I don’t know when they’re making fun of me. But I know. I just no longer care.

I know I’m a bit weird. Quirky. Odd. Strange. I don’t always pick up on irony and sarcasm, I too often take things too seriously and believe stuff that’s not true. I’m book smart, theoretical, and don’t always understand right away how some of the things that are obvious to a lot of people work. With a lot of things, I’m a bit slow, and I need things spelled out to me.

But I know when I’m being made fun of, laughed at behind my back… I know it. I’m aware that it happens.

But here’s the thing. The thing is, I don’t care about it. If people have nothing better to do than make fun of me, then I feel sorry for them. If that’s what they want to spend their time on, then that’s their time being wasted, their life. I’m not gonna waste my time caring about it, because I lose so much precious time that way. Life may be long, but it might be short. We never know how much time we’re gonna get and I don’t want to waste mine. I want to focus on doing things that are good for me, that bring joy to my soul. I don’t want to care about people who have negative opinions about me.

And I want to share a poem with you. It’s one of my favourite pieces of writing, I’ve copied it down so many times, and I might have shared it on my blog before, but I wanted to share it again:

I love being horribly straightforward. I love sending reckless text messages (because how reckless can a form of digitized communication be?) and telling people I love them and telling people they are absolutely magical humans and I cannot believe they really exist. I love saying, Kiss me harder, and You’re a good person, and, You brighten my day. I live my life as straight-forward as possible.

Because one day, I might get hit by a bus.

Maybe it’s weird. Maybe it’s scary. Maybe it seems downright impossible to just be—to just let people know you want them, need them, feel like, in this very moment, you will die if you do not see them, hold them, touch them in some way whether its your feet on their thighs on the couch or your tongue in their mouth or your heart in their hands.

But there is nothing more beautiful than being desperate.

And there is nothing more risky than pretending not to care.

We are young and we are human and we are beautiful and we are not as in control as we think we are. We never know who needs us back. We never know the magic that can arise between ourselves and other humans.

We never know when the bus is coming.”

—Rachel C. Lewis, Tell The People You Love That You Love Them

Xoxo

Julie

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Motherhood Thoughts and Fears

I’m almost 25, and my boyfriend turned 28 earlier this year. We’re adults. I’m two years older than my mom was when she had me, six years older than my grandma was when she had me. So if we go by years I still have two more years before I should have my first child. But that’s not how it works. 

The first girl who had a baby in my year in school was 16. Another followed close after. And in the last few years many others have had their first and second child as well. Last November my oldest friend had a baby. I’ve visited twice since then – in my defense I’ve only been home three times since she had him. With everyone buying apartments, having kids, upgrading to houses, having more kids… It’s easy to feel like you’re falling behind, when you’re almost 25 and still in school (master’s degree is still school), living with roommates that weren’t your choice, and the only jobs you’ve had are seasonal or weekends only. But a couple of weeks ago I found this quote on Instagram, which was really something that I needed to hear:

I visited my friend with the baby while I was home for Easter holiday. He is five months old, and when he wasn’t sleeping he was giggling and sucking on his fingers and we played airplane and with a stuffed elephant with toys on it and he was so incredibly cute! 

When I came home I had a message in a group chat with me and two other friends asking what we’re doing today so I said I just came home and was putting on laundry because I had some drool and spit up on me. One of my friends responded with a heart eye emoji. Both of the girls in the group chat are in serious want of babies. They’re a year younger than me. I’m not in the same want of babies. And I don’t feel like heart eye emojis at spit up and drool. 

Of course I’m gonna have babies someday. But is there something wrong with me when my uterus isn’t screaming for them, and I don’t feel like heart eye emojis at the thought of baby fluids at the age of almost 25? Hanging out with a 5-month old was fun, but I was a bit scared of hurting him when holding him, even now that he was much larger than the last time I saw him, when he was only 5 weeks old and so fragile I was scared to even touch him, and I couldn’t move him when he moved in my arms when I was holding him. Will this change, if the baby is mine? Or do I not have what it takes to be a good and loving mother? Is there any way of knowing? How do I put up with the not knowing until I know? 

~ Julie