My Little Girl Dreams

I often wonder how the dreams
of my own little girl will turn out.

We all do it. As little girls we dream about our life as a woman.  I would be a wife and mother, my home would be cozy and often filled with guests.  My husband would be thoughtful and engaging, respected in the community and ever-so-handsome.  And it would be perfect.  It really would.  I mean, as long as I followed the rules and made good choices all would be well. 

And so began my performance.  My need to control the outcome was great because I perceived it as a reflection of my own worthiness.  But all my striving could not produce the desired dream.

I crafted a life that I thought would fulfill my dream: a handsome man with prestigious ambitions, a comfortable home which I could fill with pretty things and well-behaved children.  And it looked good for a while.  But the whole time, I knew it was an illusion.  I knew the handsome man battled demons and our relationship was weak.  I knew the façade we presented to others didn't hold up when were alone.  The hope for children was met with the despair of miscarriages and infertility.  The desire for a loving marriage turned into disappointment and the feeling I would never be enough: not interesting enough, not pretty enough, not sexy enough, not good enough. 

I truly did believe my little girl dreams were just that, dreams from another time.  I accepted so much less than I had hoped for because the dream no longer seemed possible.  I shriveled and didn't let people get close enough to see my disappointment.  I withered and forgot what it was like to dream.

But one day,  I could no longer keep up the show. The actions of my then-husband brought others into our marriage and it was necessary to bring light into the darkness of our home.  I cannot describe the devastation of betrayal, the consequences of living in isolation and how admitting the dream was gone evoked enormous loss.  On that day, I knew my story would never be what I once dreamed. 

Everything had changed.