It wasn't until I saw a photo of myself that I was able to admit that there was something wrong, and it's no one's job but my own to find the answer. It's also no one's job but mine to choose.
This post was published on the now-closed HuffPost Contributor platform. Contributors control their own work and posted freely to our site. If you need to flag this entry as abusive, send us an email.

It wasn't until I saw myself in a photo that I realized that there was truly something wrong. The endearing smile that was always expected of me adorned my face as it had my whole life, but my eyes told a different story. My eyes -- the window into my soul -- were screaming for help. They looked exhausted, worried, and void of anything. I saw a girl who was completely lost for the first time in her life and weary from searching for a shred of light.

The truth is that I'd been lost before, but I always had friends and family who were circled around me functioning as a safety net in case a moment or fall was too much for me to handle alone. I had cultivated friends who cleared the brush ahead of me during the trek through their own lives. They had navigated down every path I'd been on, so I never felt I was walking blindly on my journey to success. They knew where to find the potholes to avoid and the side paths that ensure greater accomplishments. I had grown accustomed to this luxury of safety and sanity throughout my early and mid 20s, but now I was in uncharted territory.

That's what I saw in my eyes. I saw the desperation of a girl who needed help but no longer had anyone to turn to for support because I was on a path no one I was close to had ventured down. At 29, the life I thought would lead down a path overflowing with fulfillment, love, and family turned out to be a path I was desperate to find the furthest route away from. Unlike my friends -- and everyone else it felt like -- I did not feel the yearning to find love and settle down yet. I felt stronger alone and was terrified of losing myself by loving another. I also did not feel an ounce of desire to be a mom yet, and wasn't that fever supposed to be there by now? I was happy for and almost envious of those who did want that because it was an easier life -- easier in the sense that acceptance leans towards wives and mothers not towards the independent dream chaser.

I was the literal black sheep in my family. While I was filled with dreams, everyone else had diamond rings on the left hand and a baby clinging to the right. That was the prescribed path. That path had map and after map available for me to follow. That path also had my friends who also doubled as life vests. Choosing this life meant losing the ever comforting, "I know what that's like." There were no hands to hold or words of wisdom. The picture I saw of myself was a girl terrified of going it alone but yet even more afraid of taking the course I just knew was not for me.

There I was. I was floundering and in need of guidance as to where to take my wobbly next step. What had always filled me with happiness was no longer able to sustain me. I'd be full of life at the beginning of the day only to find myself drained and on the floor at the end. It wasn't just that I wanted more. No. I physically, emotionally, and mentally could not function without it.

But there in lied the problem. I didn't know what it was. Was it a new job? Was it a desire to travel? Was it a new location? Was it something smaller right in front of me? I became fixated on devouring anything that I thought would ease the pang of uneasiness and make me feel alive all while desperately praying for peace. I had an unspeakable fear that the life I ached for and wanted did not want me back, that I'd eventually be detoured back to the prescribed path of all women whether that's what I wanted or not.

I wish I could say there was a happy ending to this story. I wish I could say that I found a path covered in sticks and foliage that led me down my yellow brick road, but the truth is I am still searching, still afraid. I don't know what it is I am supposed to do, but I do know that I am taking charge of my story and making sure all the rises and falls are written by me. I'm at such an early part of my life that I have no idea what will fill my pages or if anything will change from what it is now.

However, all is not lost. I have found a beautiful calm deep within me that assures me the titles of mother and wife do not have to be ones I wear now and maybe ever. The calm tells me that I am allowed to search for what fills me before I worry about making sure I fill everyone else. I'll continue to search under pillows, around corners, in other states, and deep within myself to find what will give me life back in those beautiful honey brown eyes that are sad and empty.

It wasn't until I saw a photo of myself that I was able to admit that there was something wrong, and it's no one's job but my own to find the answer. It's also no one's job but mine to choose.

Popular in the Community

Close

HuffPost Shopping’s Best Finds

MORE IN LIFE