I Lived It, But I Won’t Celebrate It

 

I married young. I had my first son by twenty. I was divorced by twenty-one. I knew then I was never meant to be a wife, let alone his.

He made it clear that his ask was only to satisfy the fact that we were having a child together. I didn’t know how to say no.
Insecurity and lack of self-worth had me confusing commitment with safety, and I didn’t understand boundaries because no one ever taught me to build them.

So much of my life—from my teens into my twenties, thirties—was spent in spaces that weren’t mine.
Spaces I forced myself into.
Titles I carried because I thought they meant value.
Marriage. Motherhood. Divorce. Repeat.

And because of all that, I don’t celebrate teen parenthood or early marriage.
I don’t romanticize it. I don’t recommend it.
I understand why it happens—desire, loneliness, survival, sometimes love.
But that doesn’t mean it should be praised.
Too many of us were robbed of knowing who we are before being asked to give all of ourselves away.

And yet, I also know young love exists in real, intentional ways.
There are couples who choose each other young and grow old together. And when I see that? I appreciate it.
But I don’t co-sign it blindly. Because that’s not most people’s story.
That wasn’t mine.

And now, nearly 50, I can say it:
I’ve always had a title—wife, mom, divorcee—but I never gave myself one that belonged solely to me.
And if I regret anything, it’s that.

Not defining my identity before the weight of responsibilities were put on my lap.

I don’t know what life looks like as a single, independent individual.
I’ve always had a title attached to my name.
Marriage. Motherhood. Divorce. Repeat.

The only thing I think I’ve done wrong is never creating a title outside of those titles.
I never tried to define myself beyond being someone’s wife or someone’s mother.
And that’s one thing I do dwell in often.
Because I wasted energy, time, space—my own intelligence—out of fear.
Fear of rejection, fear of not being chosen, fear of not being loved...
All those things that put me in those unwanted spaces to begin with.

I just do NOT see the benefit in carrying that weight unless you are so grounded in self, that a detour in your life doesn't stop your true purpose.

I get that life happens. I mean, you can't really police intimacy—in private, nor in public.
But when a person (especially young) believes they've found their future in the right now, and hasn't reached for anything personal for themselves outside of it—
it is easy to see where that often leads:
Children they convince themselves they are ready for, and marriages that get sped up by default of it.

Again, I don’t want to come off as a Negative Nancy.
I KNOW genuine young love exists.
It exists where it makes sense. I've seen it.
But it's just not the ideal path for every person.
And I feel when it does happen, we need to find out the why instead of celebrating it.

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Author’s Note

Life is meant to be experienced. Many of us will live through the same type of experience—but there is no one true answer for what our individual paths should look like.

But if you have a desire, a wish, a goal, or even just a feeling that your life is more than what it currently feels like—especially in your youth—please, don’t put that power in someone else’s lap.

Sometimes when we’re unsure, we give our power away to people who were never prepared to hold us the way we needed.
And too often, those detours lead to regret.
To resentment.

I don’t regret my path.
But I do sit with my own resentment—because I’ve sold myself short for a long time, trying to fit into a box that was never meant for me.
And now, after reducing myself to almost nothing over time, I’m left figuring out what I was supposed to be to begin with.

This isn’t about shame.
This is just about knowing who you are in this world—and not giving that discovery away before you’ve even had the chance to meet yourself.