Day 23 - Expectations

I was talking with a co-worker the other day about her daughter's engagement which led to a discussion about marriage. Her daughter is 24 and I mentioned that I was the same age when I got married and when I look back on it now, I can admit that I was probably too young. That's when she revealed to me that she was 19 when she got married. NINETEEN!! Before I could catch myself I blurted out, "Why did you do a thing like that??" Luckily, she has a good sense of humor and laughed as I fumbled to back peddle on my insensitive remark.

She explained that they loved each other and didn't see any reason to wait. And that, although they have had their ups and downs over the years, they have never once talked about divorce. I found that fascinating. I thought all married couples got to a point where they considered it once or twice (or more times) in the course of a lifetime together. I mean, how could you not? Two individual people living together for YEARS are bound to seriously consider getting out. I couldn't understand how they had escaped that.

Then I took a harder look at her life. She never went to college, has three kids and was a stay-at-home mom for many years while her husband ran a successful contracting business. When the economy tanked she found work at the school and does a great job there. I admire how she works full time but still manages to run a busy household successfully. Cooks nearly every night and is cleaning and doing laundry all of the time. And, aside from miserable financial pressures resulting from her husband's business struggling, she is happy. She loves being a mom and keeping a home and doesn't seem to need much more.

I thought about my own struggles with being completely restless all of the time. I am constantly displeased with the state of my life and how....utterly BORING it seems. I always want to be planning the next trip or wishing I could go to more shows or hating my drab home and wardrobe and how dull the weekends are. I struggle every single day with time passing and knowing that my life feels just as directionless as it did the day before and feeling hopeless about it all. As a friend said to me, "It sucks that other people are out there living our lives, doesn't it Rach?"

Contentment eludes me.

Then it occurred to me that maybe it all comes down to expectations. Maybe the most that my co-worker expected from her life was to marry a nice man, have some great kids and live her life peacefully in the suburbs of Georgia. And get this - maybe that's okay! Could it be?

When I was younger I always thought I'd do great things. I thought I would never fall into the trap of doldrums and hum-drum. I thought I would get my doctorate and have my own practice and get a vacation home on the beach and travel the world. But, alas, the furthest I've gotten is Georgia. (Although I did go to San Francisco once, years ago, for a week. That was fun.)

What the hell happened? I sit here, in my mid-forties, in my house of disrepair in the middle of freaking Georgia with a job I hate, my husband's business faltering, my daughter (who is New Yorker through-and-through) who wants to leave on the first plane out of here, poor as dirt, in debt and lost.

At the risk of getting all Dr. Phil about it, I think I got stuck on October 25, 1984, my freshman year of college, the day of my sister's fatal accident. I think that when my sister died, then my mother got sick, then she died, then my brother got sick and then he died - all within the four years I was in college - all I could do every single day was survive it. Get through that day. That's the most I could hope for myself anymore - to just get by without losing my mind from the grief and fear that consumed me each day. And when I look back on it, I see that those events led to a snowball effect that puts me right where I'm at today - in the middle of freaking Georgia - wondering what the hell happened to my life.

I barely got through my undergraduate work, so I never did pursue my graduate work and that doctorate that I had always dreamed about. A bachelor's degree in sociology doesn't get you far in life. Certainly not a vacation home on the beach or any of the other things I had longed for.

Maybe if I had been stronger. It felt herculean to just get through each day so I cannot imagine the strength it would have taken to do more than that. To accomplish more. To achieve greater things.

Or maybe if I just had lower expectations for my life I would have found contentment long ago. I'm not really sure.

But at least I'm finally asking the questions.