Ask Maggie #7 — No Kids, No Marriage, No Problems?

Living an authentic life outside of expected cultural norms is worth it, promise.

Ask me an anonymous question HERE, I’ll answer it.

Dear Maggie,

I think I’m over being authentic. That probably sounds bad, but let me explain. Ever since late high school when I first started learning about authenticity and vulnerability (both from therapy and Brene Brown books), I made an effort to live my life that way. For a while, it was going great. I felt like my efforts to be authentic and vulnerable with my existing friends and people I met in college were rewarded with deeper relationships and genuine connections, increased trust, and feeling seen. But lately, it hasn’t been going so well. And I’m aware that it isn’t always going to. I get that the point of being authentic isn’t for it to always go perfectly and for people to always like you--the point is just to show up as yourself. But unfortunately for me, being authentic means sharing things about myself that are seen as strange, and for years now, it has been making me feel less connected, not more. The two main things I’m talking about here are that I’m not interested in A) getting married and B) having kids. And considering these two milestones are seen as the greatest things a woman could possibly achieve in her life as well as the default that everyone wants or else there’s something wrong with you, things get a little awkward when they come up in conversation. For reference, I’m 26.

I am never the one to bring it up. I never ask an acquaintance or friend if they’re dating anyone because if someone does have a significant other, they inevitably mention them within about the first five minutes of the conversation. Same with people’s kids. And when either of these topics come up in conversation, people will ask me “what about you?” When I answer, their reactions tend to range anywhere from pity to incredulity to condescension. I was talking with someone I had been friends with for about six months, and she made some comment about “when I get married” or something to that effect. I told her that I actually didn’t want to get married, and she just stared at me incredulously like it was the most ridiculous thing anyone had ever said to her. She asked if I had dated anyone, and I said no. She was very confused as to how I could know that I don’t want to get married if I’ve never dated anyone, and I felt uncomfortable and very awkward as I tried to explain. It doesn’t seem that complicated to me. It’s just something I’m not interested in, like how some people aren’t interested in baseball or skydiving or pistachio ice cream. How do you know you don’t want to play professional baseball if you’ve never picked up a bat? You’re just not interested in it! But I never seem to be able to explain this well in person. My friend was still giving me this incredulous look and said, “I’m not judging you, but just … wow! That’s so crazy.” Saying that she “wasn’t judging me” did nothing to change the fact that she was acting very judgmental. It’s like saying “no offense” before proceeding to say something offensive. Meaningless words don't cancel it out.

Another example is when my co-worker was talking about problems she was having with her boyfriend. She asked me if I had one, to which I said no (plain and simple no, attempting to shut down the subject, but she did not get the hint). She asked me if I wanted one, and I said no again. And just like with my friend, I suddenly felt like a rare specimen being studied in a lab. She kept asking me all of these questions and acted in the same incredulous way that my friend had. I could tell she wasn’t trying to be rude about it, but I really hadn’t wanted to discuss the topic at all, especially in the middle of the freaking work day. She said she “wished she could have that mindset,” and I wasn’t really sure what to say to that. I doubt it was even true because just yesterday I got to listen to her pontificate about how successful single women are overcompensating for being unfulfilled because they don’t have a partner. I didn’t say anything because I didn’t think it was worth the trouble, but afterward I wished that I had.

And when I say I don’t want to have kids, other people take it as an unsolicited challenge to convince me that I’ll change my mind in five years because they felt the same way at my age (and of course because they, specifically, didn’t want kids in their 20s and changed their mind at 30, that’s exactly what will happen to me too). They take it as an invitation to be patronizing and make my child-free lifestyle and goals sound selfish, trivial, and unfulfilling (one of my co-workers, again).

So what am I doing wrong here? Should I start lying? Should I say that I want to get married and have a family when people ask so I stop getting these attitudes even though it wouldn’t be authentic? Should I laugh off certain comments (like when my team lead’s husband asked if I was married “yet,” like it’s an inevitability, and when I said no, he said it was okay to still be “looking” as if I needed the approval of a random middle-aged man to be single) without bothering to correct people because it’s not worth the trouble? Am I wasting my energy trying to explain myself to people who think their lifestyle is the only acceptable one? Am I just letting their attitudes get to me too much? Does the fact that I am bothered by their attitudes and comments at all mean that deep down, I’m really not okay with it?

When I’m by myself, I feel great about my lifestyle. It’s suffering through other people’s judgment that makes me feel awful about it. I am trying very hard to unlearn society’s expectations and the idea that getting married and having a family is the one correct path for everyone. I am trying to cultivate the life that I want that doesn’t include either of these things. And when I have interactions like these, I feel like it sets me back. Is it possible to navigate these conversations while maintaining authenticity and possibly not feeling so shitty and alone afterwards?

—anonymous

Dear Outside of The Norm,

There’s a style of therapy called “Narrative Theory” that I think you might find interesting, and useful in your situation. This theory presents the idea of dominant discourses, which are, as you might guess, narratives or patterns that tend to dominate cultural norms. For example, as you are so fully aware of, there is a dominant discourse in our society around getting married and having children by roughly the age of 35. As in—most people have followed that path, continue to follow that path, and therefore, most people expect that other people will also follow that path. Other dominant discourses that have the potential to affect people: know what your career is by age X and stick to it; you should love being a parent if you are one; it’s better to be a working mom—No, it’s better to be a stay-at-home mom! Thin bodies are ideal; certain professions are more respectable; etc.

I’m sure everyone reading can come up with a few other dominant discourses—they’re everywhere. As Narrative Therapy suggests, the problems we have often emerge when a certain dominant discourse doesn’t fit with who we are or how we want to live. In other words, you are not the problem—the problem is that the cultural norms don’t fit you, and you therefore experience discomfort.

You can take or leave this idea, but it does frame the questions you’ve written in to me about in a rather helpful light—you, my friend, are experiencing the discomfort of not living a life that fits nicely into a set of culturally expected norms. (Good for you.) Naturally, you’re getting some pushback, simply because it challenges what a lot of people consider appropriate and predictable.

I’m so glad you brought this topic up—I’ll share my thoughts that may be encouraging to hear.

You ask: “What am I doing wrong? Should I start lying?”

The simple answer, as I see it, is that you are doing nothing wrong. You’re living the life you want, you do feel confident about it, and in an ideal world, everyone would react positively and with total acceptance about your “out of the ordinary” life choices. Disconnection and judgment are what you are often receiving when you choose to tell the truth, and that is indeed incredibly discouraging. No wonder you’re ready to ditch authenticity and exchange it for pretending.

I don’t think you should give up telling the truth just yet, although in some situations, it may be easier to tell a little lie—if you have no time or patience for irritating responses, for instance. You aren’t failing at authenticity if you choose to nod along and say ‘oh yeah, totally’ at some guy’s “reassurance” that you’ve still got plenty of time to find someone to marry. You don’t have to get into it with everyone, is what I’m saying. Some people won’t understand, others won’t care, and still others will take it upon themselves to try and change your mind. You get to decide whether you want to be honest about your child-free plans in the moment, depending on the context of the moment.

You also ask: “Does the fact that I am bothered by their attitudes and comments at all mean that deep down, I’m really not okay with it?”

This is a great question, and one I consider when I’m irritated that what I thought was rock-solid confidence about a decision I’ve made starts wavering in the face of someone else’s opinion.

It would be pretty nice if we were rock-solid confident in all of our decisions, all of the time. But, we likely won’t ever be. There will always be some doubt, or cultural pressure, or the sting of someone’s judgment that sneaks in and challenges our confidence. Don’t let doubt or judgment deter you, but do let it propel you: treat it curiously, rather than be afraid of it. Contemplating the source of our doubt—in small doses—can make us even more confident in our decisions.

For the record, I think you are okay with your marriage- and child-free plans: again, you’re uncomfortable because other people think your plans are strange or selfish or confusing. You are a relational being: You need acceptance, love, and authentic connection, and it can feel hopeless to not be met with those things when you’ve shared something vulnerable. It makes sense that you doubt whether you’re ok with your decisions when other people judge you for them; it’s only human.

I think it is worth spending a moment on the difference between honesty and vulnerability—they are distinct, yet often conflated, concepts. All vulnerability is honest, but not all honesty is vulnerable. You can be honest without the fluttery feeling of vulnerability—you’re just telling the truth, without fearing judgment or feeling exposed.

I’ve learned in recent years that what previously felt ‘vulnerable’ to share with others eventually, often times, stops feeling that way. Telling people I used to have an eating disorder—which used to feel incredibly vulnerable, terrifying, and embarrassing—now feels pretty neutral to disclose. It’s honest, but does not feel vulnerable. It doesn’t matter what anyone says in response; I know who I am and what I’ve gone through.

I predict that this will also happen for you. Eventually, telling people that you’re not going to get married or have children will probably not feel as ‘vulnerable’—it will just be honest. You will become less bothered by whatever responses you are met with; you will have fewer expectations about what being honest will lead to; you will be able to tell the truth and feel…neutral about it, no matter what the other person says in response.

This leads me to this question you ask: “Am I wasting my energy trying to explain myself to people who think their lifestyle is the only acceptable one?”

My answer is this: yes, probably. You can stop explaining yourself, but continue to be honest. You can—and should—be honest without needing to explain anything. The only time you should explain your life choices and goals to other people is if you want to: if there is a genuine interest from the other party, and if you genuinely feel like it could be a nice conversation.

The people who are curious and nonjudgmental about you and your life choices are ones you’ll want to keep around. I know you’ll find more of those people, even if it takes a while.

As you move forward, you may consider offering a little bit of grace and time for these characters in your life to adjust. Some of these people may never have really known a young person who knows she doesn’t want marriage or children. It’s out of the norm, as you know so well, and it’s understandable that some people are confused by it. If someone has never questioned—or never had to question—living outside of the norm, their response of judgment or dismissal does make sense, as annoying as it may be.

Just because they don’t respond with openness and acceptance initially doesn’t (necessarily) mean they’re unavailable for authentic connection; it just means they’ve grown up accustomed to an expected way of doing things and don’t have much experience with anyone who deviates from that expected standard. Their response is never really about you: it’s always about them. Be honest, give them some time to adjust, and lighten up your expectations. You, like it or not, get to be their example of a young woman who does not desire children or marriage. So, like it or not, you will probably have to endure more frustrating responses to sharing about your life choices. With every awkward encounter, try to let more and more of the frustration go. Remember to offer yourself a little extra grace, too.

You, my friend, are living boldly and authentically—and the cost of an authentic life is a little discomfort. Without discomfort, we would not know the expansiveness of knowing what feels right.

Don’t give up on authenticity or vulnerability just yet, even when you feel lonely. I can tell that you also know that a lonelier life would be one in which you pretend to want things you don’t want. Stay the course. Keep persisting through awkwardness and judgment, choose to be honest whenever possible, and trust that the right people will accept and celebrate your life as you want to live it. They’re definitely out there.

Maggie

Ask me an anonymous question HERE, I’ll answer it.