I’m not writing much these days on the vagaries of being middle-aged without children.
Maybe this is because I’m becoming ever more insular, thus limiting the opportunities for awkward social situations. I seem to mix with the same people all the time, and I live in a different country to my relatives and their kids. Or maybe I’ve got it all out of my system, here on this blog.
I’m just finding it’s not something I think about much any more. Caring about my childless state has dropped right to the bottom of the list, faded into insignificance. Way, way beneath things like:
Change job? Give up job?
Move house?? Renovate house?
Take more holidays!
It might have dropped off the list entirely.
I recount this because I want people to know that feelings shift. I’m not saying that everyone becomes less bothered as they get older, just that this is my experience. Have others of my vintage found it to be this way, I wonder?
It might give hope to someone who needs it, somewhere.
Saying that, I’m sure that something will piss me off again soon and I’ll be back on here ranting about it before too long.