Serendipity

I’m at a crossroads in my life.

At 21, all I wanted was a family.
A home. Children. Something to belong to.

I spent my 20s chasing that vision with everything I had. I stepped into roles I wasn’t ready for—caring for a teenager who grew into a strong young woman, and a newborn who is now a curious child trying to understand the world.

I loved them as if they were mine.

But they were never mine to keep.

And that’s a truth I wasn’t prepared for.

When they walked away, they didn’t just take themselves with them—they took a version of me that I had built my life around. What was left behind wasn’t just emptiness… it was weight. The kind you don’t realize you’re carrying until it’s too late.

Now I’m 34.

And I don’t know if I want children anymore.
I don’t even know if I want a family.

The same dream that once gave me purpose now feels tied to pain. My 20s, which were supposed to build something lasting, feel like they left me with nothing I can hold onto.

That’s a hard thing to admit.

I find myself asking more questions than I have answers for.
And somewhere in all of that questioning is a quieter, more uncomfortable thought—

Am I still capable of loving the way I once did?

Or has resentment taken too much space?

Maybe this is just a phase.
A transition into something I don’t fully understand yet.

But this much I know—

I’m still trying.

Even if some of the people I love have stopped believing in me…
I haven’t stopped yet.