Back in this post, I discussed a college writing exercise that helped me see my 5-year future in a way that was less about accomplishing specific career goals and more about deciding what type of life I wanted. I’m lucky enough to be living the life I wrote down and it’s time to do it again. The next 5 years hold new adventures and new desires. I can almost taste them.

Before I share my letter, though, I wanted to preface it with this:

One of the things I’ve been working on is accepting myself for who I am and trying not to live under anyone else’s expectations about what I should be doing with my life (even if those are my own made up expectations). What I’ve come to realize is that instead of being a “career woman” in the traditional sense, my biggest desire is to raise a family.

While I’ve always wanted children, I’ve also always assumed I’d be working full-time as well. This is what I knew. It was my only perspective growing up. It took a lot of soul searching to see that I don’t want my children to miss their parents as much as I missed my own. I’d rather scar them in some other emotionally devastating way.

But at the same time, it felt like I was saying goodbye to an old friend after a long and comfortable stay. I had mixed feelings.

One one hand, I was completely giving up the security blanket of a steady paycheck and a daily routine for the foreseeable future. More importantly, though, deep down it felt like I was giving up on the dreams of my younger self. Giving up on a career I could have had or a life I could have lead. Giving up on myself. But on the other hand, I was opening myself up to live in the moment without any rules, and that felt incredibly freeing. It became clear that I’d been following a path forged by someone else’s expectations – even if they came from some unknown part of myself. I was a good kid. I did well in school and had dreams of grad school, advanced degrees, and a long, successful career. That all just seemed a logical chronology for my life. But thinking about that now just makes me tired and anxious. Man, how much I’ve learned.

I should probably note that I’ve been working on this sort of thing with my therapist for like 5 years now. It didn’t all just smack me on the back of the head one day. It was a long and uncomfortable process allowing myself to be okay with this new vision of my future, but I know it’s what will keep me happy in the long run. And I have to claim that truth in order to keep my sanity.

I will ALWAYS be doing creative work in some capacity, this much I know. But that’s only because it’s in my nature. I enjoy it too much and can’t stop myself from pursuing a creative path. But my biggest want right now is to raise a happy healthy family. And since Eric has been way more supportive of this than I ever could have anticipated, I feel incredibly lucky to have the opportunity to do so. Of course we have to get pregnant first, but hopefully that won’t be too difficult.

Okay, enough psycho-babble. Here are my hopes for my future self. And just for kicks, let’s assume this day is a perfect early fall day; not too warm, not too cold, few clouds and fresh air. Because what’s the point in imagining your ideal day if it doesn’t also have your ideal weather?

Dear Future Me (in 2017),

These are my hopes for an average day in your life.

You and Eric are jostled awake ridiculously early by one or maybe two little ones climbing into the bed. Hopefully you’re used to it by now, though, so it’s not so much of a shock.

As you make your way to the (full-sized) kitchen in your newly purchased home, you savor the smell of freshly brewed coffee. The morning sun pours through the giant picture windows, drenching your family in a bright new day. You probably have at least one kid in your arms, and possibly one at your feet, but you pause briefly to take it all in.

You let the kids run off a little energy in your giant backyard while you sip your coffee on the deck. The trees sway ever so slightly in the breeze and the air smells crisp and clean. You can’t stay there forever, though, so you get everyone inside, make breakfast and send Eric off to work.

After breakfast, you corral the kids and take the dogs for a walk around the neighborhood. You’re careful to spot any new critters along the way, especially that mischievous white squirrel who’s been hanging around.

When you return, you hang with the kids until you have to grab their lunches (which you conveniently remembered to pack the night before) and drive them to daycare.

After dropping them off, you run any errands you’ve been putting off and head back to your studio. Of course your studio is located above the garage and comes fully equipped with skylights, a kitchenette, a bathroom and a slop sink. You work on various projects and manage Kinderling orders until you have to pick the kids up from daycare.

You try your best to get everyone involved in the dinner-making process. This probably doesn’t go as planned, but that’s ok because by now you’re really good at letting things go and living in the moment. Eric gets home from work to the smells of whatever you’ve managed to get on the stove, plus (probably) screaming kids. He takes over from here until dinner is served.

Dinner goes surprisingly well with almost no misbehavior and everyone feeling full and satisfied. Plus everyone LOVES your cooking.

After dinner, the whole family sits down to play some games until it’s time to read a story and put the kids down. This is, of course, really easy.

When the kids are down, you and Eric relax with a glass of wine, discuss your days and enjoy the DVR for a couple hours before falling asleep.

Tomorrow you will do it all again.