Cost of Freedom

New Year…

Same freedom.

The cost is always the same, too. I am surrounded by people who need me to be less, so that they can feel ok about their life choices. 

It took me a long time to come to terms this phenomenon. I could grasp why it happens, but I could not so easily accept that… in order to regulate themselves, many need the illusion that they can control someone else. 

I have always known what I want out of my life. Of course the notion evolved with time, but the core principle of it - Freedom - forever resonated as my ultimate True North. 

Freedom requires precisions, and it absolutely demands sacrifices; I have been eager to make them because what I got in return was well Worth It for me. 

My life involves minimal relational commitments. I do not take on responsibilities of caring for plants, pets, children - and I do not cohabitate with romantic partners. I enjoy solitude, flexible schedules, resting when I want, traveling when I choose, and ability to make spontaneous decisions. 

This invites a lot of tension from people who chose the opposite. 

Mothers asking me, “Are you sure you won’t regret it?” 

Married friends wondering, “Do you ever get tired of your own company?” 

And the occasional, “Not even a puppy? Why not?” 

The truth is… 

No, I’m not even a little bit jealous of the life YOU have. Because for me, Mine Is Perfect. It didn’t happen by accident. It didn’t randomly fall into place. I curated it. I sacrificed for it. I designed it, consciously. And I absolutely love everything about it. 

So… Why the need for me to feel at least a little bit jealous, then? 

Because — me thriving in the kind of life I created for myself destabilizes the story that the way they live their lives is the only way.

The story that motherhood is the only way.

The story that marriage is the only way.

The story that attachment is the only way. 

When someone has none of that, and loves their life exactly as it is, it confronts them with the feeling of:

“Wait a minutes… was that NOT the only way?”

And if they think about it too long, the contemplation may propel them into a very uncomfortable and even dangerous territory. One that begs them to question their own choices, and wonder of possible alternative routes they never even considered, that are now entirely missed. 

Instead of doing the the heavy labor of self-regulating under strain, they push the load off and demand of me:

“Please regret not choosing what I chose, even just a little bit…”

“Please be also jealous of me and my life, even just a little bit…”

“Please tell me you are not certain you will feel the same way about your choices in the future…” 

But I can’t. Because that would be a lie. 

Sometimes I’m listening to a story of someone’s year, and quietly, I know that I have lived an entire lifetime worth of events and intensity in the same 365 days.

There are few people I can truly share the full range of how incredible my life is without them projecting, defending, or attempting to outsource their self-regulation to me. 

That’s ok. 

Because that which I get to live… and yes, often have to keep to myself… is worth all the mediocrity of this world to me.