An Ode to Being Unmarried and Childless

Yellow flower — Photo by Miguel u00c1. Padriu00f1u00e1n

I am in my late 30s, unmarried, and might never have a child.

My biological clock is past its prime, which means that if I ever get married, it might be too late to conceive naturally. Right now, I am in a complicated relationship that I am okay with since my ultimate goal is, anyway, not marriage. I had been tempted a few times to get married to partners in the past, but it never materialized. In a way, I am thankful that the mother universe did not grant me those wishes. If she did, I would have landed in some serious trouble. I wasn’t right for them, and they weren’t for me either. It was a two-way street of disappointment and incompatibility that new love often tends to cover up and sideline.

When love is new and all-things-dreamy, it overrides potential issues. Everything seems solvable, including toxicity. Over time, when you are “used” to this feeling of love, you start paying attention to the issues you had conveniently ignored the first time around. This is where the real test begins – when the honeymoon phase ends. For some, the dreaminess and butterflies linger on for life. For others, the relationship becomes a compromise. Some others, like myself, realize it is best to move on. I often wonder what my life would have been if I had succumbed to marriage in my honeymoon phase, only to realize later that we are incompatible. So, yes, I am thankful things did not work out the way I desperately wanted at that point in time.

Talking about universal manifestations reminds me of this profound poetry from Blythe Baird’s If My Body Could Speak. I found it very relatable.

Poem on theories of the universe by Blythe Baird — Theories About The Universe – Blythe Baird

So here I am in a world that is the polar opposite of my peers, taking it one day at a time, living on my own terms, dealing with my own demons, and at peace with my courteous angels. Frankly, you tend to become less flexible and stuck to your patterns at this age. Probably, this is why they tell you to marry early – so you can adjust to differences better.

Presently, I find it unbearable to let go of this freedom of choice and, mainly, the freedom from compromises of any kind. I don’t have to entertain people I don’t like just because they are my partner’s family. I don’t have to sweet-talk anyone because they are my child’s BFF’s parents. It’s the kind of freedom I have become attached to. It is, without a doubt, I am where I am for purely selfish (or self-love; there are many ways of looking at this) reasons and not for the “world” and “climate control” as is the norm nowadays. I believe you should only have children because you want to experience what it is like to raise a child. Not because you think you might end up lonely and definitely not because it’s what society demands.

When someone tells me I should get married and have children, I ask them why. Most often, the answer would be immediate, “So you don’t end up alone when you are old.” This answer is quite tricky. All around, I see partners who are “not there” entirely, caught up in their own busy worlds. I see senior citizens living alone, their children comfortably settled abroad or outside their native place. Marriage becomes a gamble when you get into it expecting “help.” You may or may not receive what you seek. The help we get from our children might mostly be financial. Then again, the senior citizens I see are well-off and are not entirely dependent on their children. I often wonder why we have to burden our kids with our expectations. Is that why we give birth to new beings – so that they can fulfill our demands? I consider myself selfish for not wanting to give up my freedom. But isn’t it equally selfish to burden someone with our expectations?

Returning to the question of “Who will take care of you?” It is a concern, yes. But what is the guarantee that a partner or child will provide us with the best care?

As a single woman who would probably prefer to be single all her life, I can’t help think about my future time-to-time. What would I do when I turn old? Right now, my mind is leaning towards a high-quality assisted living facility. This information is not to evoke pity or compassion but to keep an open mind about the practicality of it all. Such high-end centers are extremely senior-citizen-friendly – they have a doctor-on-call, in-house chefs that cater to your dietary restrictions, people who help you with grocery and chores, wheelchair-friendly living quarters, and much more. The paid caregivers would be more interested in helping you than anyone near you. In an assisted living environment, people are trained to deal with elderly issues. Since it’s a job, they will try to give it their best. Moreover, you are surrounded by people your age, and they would be more interested in talking to you than someone younger.

Of course, you need to forego some luxuries in real-time to afford this. I am in half a mind to buy a new property (to show everyone I can). But the sensible half wants to hold that thought so I could pool the money into my “assisted living fund.”

Why can’t I stay with my family, you ask? Though our loved ones adore us, no one can be at our beck and call 24×7 without losing their sanity. Over time, my family might understandably grow bitter (even if they love me) due to exhaustion, frustration, and lack of freedom that comes with taking care of my needs, which could be both mental and physical. Such pressure can ultimately ruin a perfectly healthy relationship.

That’s how I look at it – I rather someone take care of me mindfully than grudgingly out of a false sense of obligation.

An Ode to Comestic Surgery and Embracing Distorted Realities

It’s no secret that celebrities undergo cosmetic surgeries, which are far from discreet, despite what they would like to think. The changes are always noticeable; you know when they get a procedure done. Most of them look stunning as they already are, so it is often difficult to understand why they opt for such procedures.

When I recently discussed this with a friend, she shared an interesting perspective – try to look at it from the celebrity’s angle. They often go through immense pressure regarding their looks. Insecurity and hyper-focusing on “flaws” become the norm. Most often, these flaws are subjective – we usually conclude that we are defective on our own. But sometimes, the people around us plant the seed of insecurity in us by constantly commenting on what they think are our flaws.

Commoners indeed face mean remarks for features that don’t meet beauty standards, but not on the scale as celebs do. I was ridiculed for my long nose for the longest time (I still am). I was someone who was absolutely at peace with my nose. I wasn’t even aware of this “flaw” until people around me started pointing it out. Initially, I welcomed all jokes. I did not wish to offend anyone or be considered a snowflake. The mocking got irritating after a point. I then started explicitly telling my offenders that I did not find such jokes funny. I had no qualms in distancing myself from those who continued joking about it. In hindsight, if I was regularly subjected to unwarranted comments from strangers, who knows, I might have resorted to cosmetic surgery. But I was never surrounded by faceless, nameless people spewing mean comments. I also had the liberty of anonymity, so I moved on happily with my imperfect nose. When I reached adulthood, my insecurity concerning my nose reduced. I like my natural nose; I just stay away from unnatural comments.

Popularity can aggravate insecurity. It is impossible for someone to exist without insecurities of some kind. The public eye, however, tends to exacerbate those insecurities, engulfing you as a whole.

Celebs eventually depend on surgery to correct what their eyes have disliked for a long time. They have the means, so why not? After surgery, that part looks acceptable to them, even if it doesn’t sit right with the rest of their face. And once that problem point is fixed, they move on to the next one. Eventually, they become a distorted version of themselves. I have often seen celebrities altering their faces to no recognition. The version youngsters strive to be without knowing their idols had extensive corrections done to get to where they are, the version that aches to mimic the Instagram ‘Paris’ filter.

In the highly perfectionist modern world, almost everyone has undergone an invasive or non-invasive procedure to correct or enhance their features. If we can get braces, which is in no way “natural,” why is it so sacrilegious to get a nose job or lip filler? But I have often wondered why celebrities’ friends and neighbors do not step up when a procedure goes wrong and advise them not to undergo any more horrendous transformations? One reason might be empathy, kindness, and everything wholesome. Another reason might be that these well-wishers, who might be celebs themselves, are probably unaware of those changes. For the commoner, it is easier to spot such alterations because we are not surrounded by people who have undergone cosmetic procedures. But in a sea of celebrities who have undergone some enhancement or the other, your eyes get trained to adapt and ignore.

If we consider everything from a celebrity’s point of view, things start making sense. You tend to judge less and accept that in some people’s worlds, the realities may not confine with ours. However, it is still a reality – theirs – that we need to empathize with, acknowledge and accept.

“You never really understand a person until you consider things from his point of view—until you climb into his skin and walk around in it.”
Harper Lee’s “To Kill a Mockingbird” (1960)

An Ode to Finding a Passion Outside Work

Recently, I talked about the distress I experienced due to excess work. I felt exhausted, working day in and out, and was in severe need of some me-time. I had been “at it” for two years since the start of the pandemic, and I was close to burning out.

Thankfully, I got some time out recently – when my manager went on vacation. I was ecstatic at first. There was no urgent work; it almost felt like I was also on holiday. But then I started experiencing something that I had never experienced in my two years of pandemic-induced erratic work hours – the insufferable boredom that comes with having no work. Was it a withdrawal symptom, a side-effect of having burnt a copious dose of after-work oil? When you finally get some breathing space, you have no clue what to do with it. You are left grasping at straws.

The first few days of zilch micromanagement felt like a dream to me. But by the second or third week, boredom took precedence, and I started actively looking for tasks to self-initiate. A few questions that crossed my mind –

Is this what retired people go through? They are relaxed and happy the first few weeks of retirement, but many develop a sense of despair later on.
How can I stop myself from feeling this way?
Why do we always have to be on the move? Why are we so averse to relaxation?
What is the optimal amount of work you need daily to keep yourself happy?

Of course, I do not have the answers to all questions. I am not a researcher or scientist. I apologize if you came here looking for answers. However, I can tell you something from my personal experience:

I am happiest when I have at least half a day’s worth of solid work. The type of work that requires my complete attention, work that takes my mind off all kinds of distractions. When I am consumed by an optimal amount of work that meets my skills, I enter this state of flow that ignites my happy hormones. This “work” that I am talking about is not just restricted to office work; it can be anything – cooking, playing a sport, writing, learning, dancing, singing. The point is that it should be something that is immersive and consumes your entire interest.

It might be why experts recommend having a passion outside work. Once you’re retired, this passion will keep you alive and kicking. For workaholics, finding that excitement outside work might prove challenging. They hardly get the time to pause and seek activities that may have the potential to improve their quality of life in the future. One possibility for such plodders is to go part-time post-retirement in context to their work (maybe consulting). But if you have decided to step away from office work, as most of us plan to do post-60, finding yourself a cause or a passion becomes imperative.

We feel our best when we are in service or when we can provide help in some way. Finding your “Ikigai,” as vouched by the long-living Japanese, is essential to one’s overall well-being and happiness. I am not yet sure what my Ikigai is. I enjoy writing, but I haven’t yet sat down to see if I could write for half a day, nor do I know if this exercise would cater to my emotional health eternally. I did some sewing the other day. It made me feel alive. Maybe Ikigai can be a bunch of things – a heady concoction of multi-colored magic beans that contribute to our general well-being. You can embrace each of them as per the mood and season, mix and match, exercise portion-control, and tuck them away in your customized, personalized happiness jar. All it takes is some time to figure out what those magic beans are.