Growing Up in a Small Town

"I compared myself to stories of pregnancies occurring in women my age, older than me, younger than me, and with serious health issues, which only furthered my self-lack."

- Bridgit Muratore

Growing Up In A Small Town

When I was a kid, my favorite love story was the one my grandmother told me about her and my grandfather.  They met as teenagers when my grandfather befriended her older brother.  He soon began spending all his available time at their house even when her brother wasn’t available.  Their friendship blossomed into courtship and the summer my grandmother graduated from high school, they drove nearly 200 miles to elope.  They bought their first parcel of land on the outskirts of town and moved a one-bedroom house onto the parcel.  Throughout the years, they added more land, expanded their house, acquired livestock and pets, and raised their children.  They were married for nearly 70 years, completely devoted to one another and the family they created together.  

My teenage years were very different from my grandmother’s.  The boys I knew were more like siblings than love interests, and I couldn’t wait to get out of the small town.  I spent my first summer of college in Tennessee, only making it home for a few days before returning to college.  At home, my grandmother waited patiently outside my bedroom for me to wake up so she could see that I was the same granddaughter she remembered.  She never had a desire to travel or explore the world outside our small town, and she couldn’t understand where my desire came from.  I sent her postcards from every state I explored and each trip home I spent a day with her and Grandpa to share my adventures.

After years of travels and exploration, I settled back in my home state, and like my grandmother married in hopes of beginning a family.  I was older than my grandmother had been at the time she married, and I began to panic when I didn’t quickly conceive.  As I compared myself to her journey, I fell into a well of lack and worried that there was something wrong with my body.  The fear took me to several doctors who told me I was healthy, and yet conception still ceased to come.  I compared myself to stories of pregnancies occurring in women my age, older than me, younger than me, and with serious health issues, which only furthered my self-lack.  I desperately wanted children yet, now I understand, I stood in the way of it happening by insisting that something was wrong with me.  

I’ve been told, “never try to be someone else as you can only be 100% you,” and yet I spent so much time comparing myself to others that I didn’t know what my 100% really was.  The example I had of a grandmother was someone to play games with, have sleepovers, and tell life stories.  As I grew older, I drifted further from that example.  My husband and I moved through our fertility journey, and my grandmother’s experience haunted me until my internal time clock exploded.  I was devastated that I would never be the grandmother she was since I couldn’t even become a mother.  

One of the Emphory practices is “Everything is Relative to You.”  If I were to believe in this, I needed to believe that my journey was separate from my grandmother’s or anyone else’s.  It wasn’t easy to halt the comparisons, though, as people love to share stories of similar situations to show encouragement and support.  I found that as I compared my journey to the stories told, my story came up lacking.  Instead, I needed to separate my journey and see it as uniquely mine.  

"...comparing my journey to others results in self-sabotage."

“Everything is Relative to You” means I not only have permission to be selfish, but it is my design to be selfish with my journey.  My path is completely different from anyone else’s because I am created unlike anyone else.  The more I dive into believing that everything is relative to me, the less the stories of others affect me.  I have learned that separating myself from others’ stories, my own preconceived beliefs, and the thoughts in my head can help me find the 100% that is uniquely me.  When I separate myself from all expectations, I learn more about my purpose on this journey.  However, comparing my journey to others results in self-sabotage.  

When my grandfather died, I realized I had an experience my grandmother had not yet lived through.  I had the experience of losing a spouse.  I sat by my grandmother’s side, chauffeured her to and from the funeral, cemetery, and reception, and watched her move through the motions of grief.  I held her hand, remembering my own experience but recognizing the vast difference as well.  She had spent an entire lifetime with her spouse, whereas I only had a year.  Grief may be the same, but how we got there was very different.  There are parts of my journey that will show similarities to others and parts that will overlap with others; however, as I remember the practice “Everything is Relative to You,” I’m reminded that my journey is uniquely mine.