Wondering what I've lost
PART 2 of 'I wish I could've seen more outside of Petersburg, Kentucky'
Only a couple of generations apart, I was granted every opportunity that my Gran never got.
I’ve explored, and I’ve seen so many places. But I often wonder what I've lost.
Before I go there, let me take you back to simpler times and finish telling this story. The story behind my song, “Alaska” (attached at the end of this post).
From 1999 to 2008, half the population of the United States was collecting coins.
Specifically, they were collecting US State quarters. Each year, the government issued 5 new state quarters, with unique designs on the reverse. Collecting the quarters was popular, both in a casual manner and as a serious pursuit.
Well, my Gran (Donna) was in serious pursuit when she gave collector's maps to all her grandchildren.
Gran was convinced that this map, when full, would be worth a lot of money someday. And each time I came to visit, she had a jar of quarters ready for me to sort through.
The coin collection was our thing.
What could this map have represented to a woman like Donna? The quarters were both tangible pieces of metal, and symbols of places she'd never experienced. Places she’d only seen on TV.
Fast forward and I’m graduating college. Gran had already passed away from cancer. I stared down the path expected of me and said no thank you. I got an English teaching job in Spain, left everything behind, and chose to see the world instead. I did it for myself, and for all the women in my lineage who never even imagined that opportunity.
I’d like to think my grandmothers and great-grandmothers and great-great-grandmothers are proud of me for everything I've experienced.
But… 8 years later…
I feel torn. Or maybe just plain sad. So here comes a dumpster fire of ranting thoughts.
Maybe an older woman would pat me on the back and say:
"Look at you! I wish I could've traveled like you when I was young. You dear, you're truly living."
Oh yes, experiences! What a collection I have!
But the truth is, I have nothing to show for it. I have no career. I have no children. I have no life partner. No stability. No security. And perhaps, worse of all, I have not given back or served the world in any way that feels good enough for me.
Please don’t run to the Comments to refute this. I know this is negative thinking. Something I rarely let myself indulge in. But I’m having a hard time and I need to let this out.
Leaving behind my duty, my family, my roots. This has left me with what? Short-lived adventures, new perspectives, and bedtime stories I can tell to WHO?
My free-spirited way of living includes its fair share of sacrifices. Different from my grandma’s sacrifices, but still all too real.
Moments of doubt, comparison, financial rollercoasters, navigating cultural differences, connecting with precious people along the way, and then leaving them behind.
And let me tell you, no one sticks around. Not even and especially me.
"But look at you! You, my dear, are truly living!”
I have truly lived. But I have also died a hundred times over.
I have shed skin and shed people left and right. Those always go hand-in-hand by the way.
Yes, I have traveled at a scale that Gran and all the women (and men!) in my family could never have even fathomed. But is my life better for it? I wonder.
No, I genuinely fear this. I fear it a lot. Especially being in America the last month. I feel like a freak in the poorest way. No but how did this country get so expensive?? I can’t afford to even breathe the air here.
OK, I’ll calm down now.
I subscribe to this belief: we all have multiple paths we can take at any given moment and none of them are better or worse. Each has its own set of lessons, delivered in various forms.
The difference is that my ancestors had far fewer paths available to them.
While I’m lucky and I get the option to chose freedom — I paid its price. Gran had less options, she inherited duty and carried its weight.
Women of my generation still face expectations of duty, caretaking, and self-sacrifice. When I decided to live abroad, I had people tell me I was 'lost,' 'selfish,' and ‘losing my potential.’ Meanwhile, when men follow their ambitions, they’re celebrated as trailblazers forging their paths.
There is a particular toxic blend of guilt, judgment, and emotional burden that women experience when choosing to pursue a life beyond traditional obligations—as if our worth is still measured by what we give rather than what we become.
And here's the mindf*ck:
After breaking free of these expectations, I sometimes find myself wondering if I've actually escaped anything at all.
While Gran was trapped by duty, am I now trapped by the endless pursuit of experience, forever searching for meaning in the next destination? Different constraints, different sacrifices, but both of us still questioning our worth in a world that never taught women how to value themselves. Read that last sentence again.
Ok this is getting deep. Listen…
Currently I am in pre-production of my new album. I am writing songs about all this mindf*ckery and I’m going crazy but also it’s exciting. Ultimately, I hope that this work will revive narrative songwriting as a medium for female empowerment and healing.
My end goal: to map the journey from inherited obligation to hard-won freedom – and illuminate how both states come with their own cost.
Here’s my song "Alaska." I included it in my last post but now I added the lyrics below. It's the story of Donna Jean McWethy, my beautiful grandmother. It’s not just about a coin but about the unrealized dreams of every woman before me. "Alaska's all she held onto.”
“Alaska” Lyrics
They say those coins for 50 states Oughtta be worth a lot someday She kept the coins but needed change Kept the coins but needed change Change, she needed change She was stuck in her small town lane Never drove on new roads paved She put the quarters in a vase Drew Alaska, and sealed her fate Change, she needed change CHORUS Change of extraordinary magnitude The change that only Alaska can do She changed by the mountain She changed by the moon Alaska’s all she held onto Alaska’s all she held onto She came home to small-town ways Gave me the coin, Alaska state Said it’d be worth a lot someday To see the world and feel the change, change To feel the change REPEAT CHORUS OUTRO
Ohhh let me tell you I feel this. I also didn’t follow a traditional path in any way shape or form and travelled and moved A LOT in my 20s. I’m grateful for where I’m at now, but agreed it’s not without loss and grief. Every choice or decision to do something is also a choice to not do something else and we have to live with that. I feel as women our choices are particularly tough and come with all kinds of ticking clocks and societal pressure. I think it means we need to be extra kind to ourselves and supportive of eachother. I do believe there is a grand design for each of us and everything happens for a reason even if we don’t see it just yet. ❤️
Sydney—I did not run to the comments to refute what you said... but to say I FEEL YOU! All of it hit very, very, very hard!!! Thank you for putting it in words, and yes—the question of moving away from 'freedom from' to 'freedom for... what' is painful. But I think in the bigger picture we'll still be better off, after all the trails and tribulations, for having followed our own hearts. (And also to say that, on top of a non-traditional lifestyle, you have added the artistic lifestyle—which, to me, adds yet another layer of complexity and potential for feeling 'lost'.) Gorgeous post. And I hope you're taking from America what you want and leaving what you don't.