I Am Tired Of Playing House!

Not because of pressure or tradition, but because it felt spiritual, something to be seen as a fairytale. Watching little girls with their daddies at their purity balls growing up always did something to me. It was a representation of protection, cleanliness, and intent. I didn’t have a dad to care about me in that way, so I made my mom do it. When she brought me my first purity ring, I was over the moon.

I can admit that I didn’t understand what it took to make such a big commitment, but it’s still something I took vows toward within myself long before I ever said them out loud. That is why this hurts the way it does.

After eleven years, I realized I did not even want to send another message asking for clarity. Not because the question stopped mattering, but because asking started to feel wrong. Like I had already asked too much. Like continuing to ask put me in a position that felt out of alignment with my values.

The last time I asked was when I was asked about having a third baby. We were young, and of course we weren’t in a rush to make such a big commitment, but having another baby was a much bigger commitment. Of course, I was told what I wanted to hear, and now my sweet baby girl is here.

At times, the whole “living in sin” feeling made me feel dirty or used. Not in a dramatic way, but in a quiet, internal way that made me question myself. That brought back insecurities. Am I not good enough? Does he just not want to settle? Maybe I’m just not “the one.”

I wanted this to be the last time I talked about it because it stopped feeling genuine. It felt like I was forcing something that should have been a giving. And once it reaches that point, something inside you just knows.

When Things Stopped Feeling Real

There is a strange numbness that happens when you stay somewhere too long waiting for it to become something else. Things start to feel unreal, like you are acting out a role instead of living your life.

I look at the fact that his mother was married. I look at how normalized marriage was around him, his brother, his best friend. And yet here I am, still questioning my place. Still wondering what this all means. I think that is part of what makes it harder. It is not like the idea of marriage is foreign or unfamiliar in his world. He already treats me as his wife. I have access, privilege, and no day-to-day worries or wantings.

Then there are the comments that follow you. Being told that our three kids solidify something. That now I cannot leave. That statement alone carries so much weight. It suggests permanence without choice. Commitment without intention. As if motherhood replaces partnership. As if I should be satisfied with that.

But it doesn’t. It actually makes me pause and ask myself what kind of example I am setting.

The Mixed Messages from Women Around Me

My own mother tells me not to worry about it. That it is not that big of a deal. Very neutral. Almost detached. Like wanting marriage is something you should grow out of.

His mother sees the children as the commitment, as if that should be enough to stop me from wanting more. But for me, it feels like it holds me back from finding a partner who chooses me fully. Someone who wants to make that spiritual commitment to me, not just live alongside me.

Then I hear older women say do not get married. Women who have been married for a long time warning younger women against it. And I listen. I really do. Sometimes it makes me wonder if I am setting myself up for failure. If marriage is just a trap disguised as the American dream. The white picket fence. The government contract. All of it.

I understand the argument. Marriage changes your life. Your husband often becomes the priority. Your time is no longer fully your own. And for a woman with dreams, ideas, and aspirations, that can feel underwhelming. Even suffocating.

So yes, I question myself. I wonder if this urge is something I should outgrow.

Still, I Am Just a Girl with a Heart

At the same time, I cannot ignore the simplest truth. I am just a girl. Am I not allowed to want my fairytale too? Is 32 too old to want something sacred and intentional? What would I tell my daughters if they came to me with these same questions one day?

I am not perfect. I can see why things are the way they are. I understand that our relationship was built more through actions than words. We built a life. A family. A rhythm. And sometimes past statements feel bigger than everything we have done.

But words still matter. Intent still matters. Choice still matters.

And even with all my doubts, all my questioning, all my fear of regret or resentment, there is something I cannot explain away.

The Feeling I Cannot Ignore

The same deep, instinctual feeling I had when conceiving my children is the same feeling I have about sealing this connection. It is not logical. It is not about society. It is not about pressure.

It is a knowing.

That does not mean marriage is easy. It does not mean it guarantees happiness. But it does mean that for me, wanting it is not foolish or immature or unrealistic.

It is honest.

And maybe the real work is not convincing anyone else of that. Maybe it is deciding whether I am willing to keep silencing that part of myself, or finally honor it, even if it means things change.

That is where I am now. Not angry. Not dramatic. Just awake.

Emotionally awake.