Ever since I was little, I’ve dreamed about what my life would be like. I mean, what little girl doesn’t? My sister and I both had a corner of our rooms designated as the ‘nursery’ where our babies would eat, sleep, and have play-dates with the other babies in the neighborhood. Playing dress up consisted mainly of stealing a white king-sized sheet from Mom and Dads closet, wrapping it around ourselves in an ever-so-graceful manner, and then walking down the stairs, holding a fake plant, into the kitchen to show off the wedding dress of our dreams.
These days, we have Pintrest and everything is planned out. The wedding dress I picture myself in is a little more detailed than a sheet. It’ll be an early fall wedding, just before dinner time. The ceremony will be short, followed by an enormous dinner, and then butt loads of alcohol to last us into the wee hours of the morning. The colors will be either Maroon, Navy, and Gold or Navy, Blush, and white. Its a hard choice. That bed sheet has evolved into a long sleeve, low back, figure-hugging, oh-so-detailed dress that makes my future hubby cry as I walk towards him down the aisle.
I’ll be successful, happy, and have the biggest closet ever. It’ll be full of clothes so that I never have nothing to wear. My house will be modern yet cozy. Dark floors, light walls, and a huge lawn. Their will be four little babies (Adeline, Wilson, Oliver, and Audrey) who will be so loved and will be raised exactly how my parents raised me. I will be some sort of fashion blogger who is well traveled and does a workout every morning and who surprises her husband with Nerf gun wars after work.
Its all planned. I dream about it every day. Its my happy place yet, it’s so so so not good for me.
I can be realistic. I know that I have zero control of my future and I shouldn’t get attached to my dreams because they might not come true and these dreams will just let me down. I know this stuff. But with how college is turning out and how long the days are, how can I help myself. Everything I love seems to be in the future: weddings, babies, fashion careers. Its all just waiting on the other side, taunting and distracting me.
I constantly remind myself that I need to be here in the now. When I get to the future, I will be wishing for the times where I was able to just lay in my bed and watch Netflix all day. I find myself now, remembering how easy it was to be 10 and how my biggest struggles then were picking out what to wear and determining how to boss around my little sister that day. I also miss the hell out of high school. The football games, the teachers who were also your best friends, the friends, the comfort of having home cooked meals, and the way I felt about my first love. I tell myself all the time to stop worrying about the future and start making the time I have right now memorable. I need to stop wishing I was older because being young is amazing and freeing. I just think I’m not good at being my age. I’m not good at doing spontaneous things or not giving a damn about what the future is like. Its not how I’m programmed.
The thought of the future makes me happy, truly happy and so excited. But I have to start finding the happiness in the present: how the stars look or how amazing the sunset is or just soaking in the time that I have to sit, literally all day, and watch Netflix, without a care in the world. I will get to the future and it will be amazing. It’s there waiting for me and it’ll be there when I’ve finished (trying to be) being a reckless and lazy college kid.
Plus, Mom always tells me wedding styles change all the time, so my dream wedding will be different by the time I get there. I mean king sized bed sheet to low back, figure-hugging? That’s a pretty drastic jump.
My advice for the others in this choke hold: lets watch the sunset, look at the stars, and don’t get out of bed unless you have to pee. Lets do some crazy shit so our kids can think we where cool. Lets live today and think less about tomorrow because it will come and it will be amazing.
All my love & more,
Miss Bradshaw Wannabe