The time period from last fall to the latest autumn pretty much marked the first year I have ever truly had on my own. Most people thought I'd be wallowing in loneliness with my son off to school and my nest decidedly empty (save the RBD) -- but it was actually a year of revelation and (for lack of a less hackneyed word ...) growth.
When my mother died, I was finishing my sophomore year in college. I spent the summer picking up all the pieces of my own life -- taking care of my broken father -- and two younger sisters. Moving straight into an adult position at the age of 19, I sort of lost those last two carefree years of college -- yet somehow managed to "free" myself enough to fall in love with a most unlikely younger man. Still, firmly scared of life at that point, I accepted a job at a firm far from home (and David) ... but working with my older sister. The transition to the "real" world was more gentle and I wasn't really on my own. Just a few months into that job -- living in a dreary apartment with so little money that I didn't do anything and didn't have any friends outside of work -- David and I got engaged. Then, just after the New Year, my dad had some serious health issues, so I returned to Pennsylvania. The objective was to help out at home, but a serious car accident in freezing rain landed me in the hospital with a fractured pelvis and I became a dependent to my ailing father and grandmother. That was not the plan.
When I was mobile and able to drive, I started working for my dad. I was able to plan our wedding throughout the spring and summer and continued to work for my father's corporation following our late summer wedding. Still a dependent, right? But a year after we were married we moved to DC and I got a "real" job in the "real" world downtown Washington. I did the big commuter life thing -- metro busses and subways -- then the long drives from the suburbs. Then we started a family. I had barely ever lived on my own. I had only barely lived my life according to my own desires and schedule. And I didn't want to!
David started to become quite upwardly mobile around the time we started a family. He began to travel extensively nationally and internationally. I was so isolated. I had worked part-time in DC until my daughter was 1 and I was pregnant with my son. One evening trying to get home from work, an accident on I-95 prevented me from getting back to my baby in childcare while my husband was on a business trip in Switzerland or Wales or Belgium. I was newly pregnant and the situation was pretty dire. I quit the commute after that -- telecommuted until my son was born -- then quit altogether to raise my kids. Just a couple years later, on the cusp of a move to Boston, David was diagnosed and everything came to a screeching halt.
Then I became not only a mother, but a caregiver and a home-base "rock." David's travel life didn't end, but changed. He travelled at least a third of the time. Even if I had wanted to, it would have been extremely challenging to have any kind of career of my own. (Too bad I never thought of writing back then ...) Thankfully, I had a great group of friends -- other at-home, young mothers -- who came along-side of each other and diluted the isolation of choosing that life. Raising my children is the most important and gratifying thing I have ever done. That job is nearly complete ... so change is inevitable. Change.
Some people think we were nuts getting married so young. At 22, I had had very few worldly, exciting experiences. It's true. But I was able to embark on adventures WITH David -- not a girlfriend or roommate. A husband. That was great! As young adults in DC, we were pretty poor. We didn't go out much -- a draft was over $7 back in the late '80s. Our little cave of an apartment cost us around $600/month and his starting salary was around $19K. Somehow we managed some fun -- taking the "Montrealer" (Amtrak) to Canada -- a wee precursor to more international travel. Then, just a couple years later, we travelled to Cyprus for Christmas with his family and extended the trip to three weeks -- two of which were spent kicking around Germany (not long after the wall came down), Austria, Switzerland and Italy spending every other night on the train. We found ourselves on the Ponte Vecchio on Christmas Eve 1990 with a crowd of [wonderfully] crazy Italians swigging champagne, smashing bottles and shooting guns. Yes, guns. It was the most memorable night of my life to this day. Incidentally, I had the best sex of my life that night, too. No more on that, you dropped-jaw people! Ha.
So ... the point is that I chose to NOT be alone. I decided that living side-by-side with David was way preferable to being independent and adventuring on my own. I would do it all over again. I don't regret getting married young at all. However, over this last year I got a taste of the liberties that being on your own can offer.
I no longer had to consider anybody else's needs or schedules or desires or problems or or or ... I could sleep when I wanted; get up when I wanted (when I wasn't working); go out when I wished; eat what I liked; choose to get dressed or not. No more homeroom bells, teacher conferences, lunches to pack (I love you guys -- loved making your lunches, but man! that got old!) You get the point. I still went to church every Sunday, but sometimes skipped Sunday School <gasp>.
But after a while, the liberty got stale. The on my own stuff became boring and I, again, found myself to be quite isolated. A friend who had been available started working longer hours and found a companion. It didn't take long to recall why I chose to get married: To live along-side of someone with whom I shared a belief system -- a value system -- love of music -- love of family -- love of travel. Someone to warm the other side of the bed and brew the coffee. Someone with whom to debate (discuss) a topic -- with whom to worship -- with whom to pray. A warm hand to hold -- a movie-going companion -- a late-night dreamer. Devotion.
So, along with everyone else, the new year offers somewhat of a clean slate. Let's call it a "blank" slate -- on which to design, write, dream, risk -- across 365 more gifts of life. I'm the first to admit that many of the upcoming days will be spent doing little that matters -- let's call that "rest." Some days will be spent going through the motions of life with little to no consideration of affect. Hmmm. Maybe I can focus on that -- deciding what effect my motions and choices have on my world -- on the greater world. It's too dang exhausting to attempt to have a positive effect every day, at least for my own tired soul ... but maybe it's something on which I can ponder. Maybe the "greater world" can be a person or two or three. Yeh, I can work with that. I usually do anyway.
So, returning to the same old same old ... Love. How can I better love this year? Love me, love others, love the world ... and better love God. I think most of the fear is finally gone. That opens up more opportunity for hurt -- for disappointment. But it also opens up a world of expression, color, warmth and even trust in an untrustworthy world. I may fail horribly and fall painfully on my butt, but at least I will have been open to the change -- to unexpected freedoms -- to new people and chances to venture down new roads -- to living more fully. Will I embrace it? I want to believe in people again. I want to believe in God's promises. I guess the newness of time will tell.
Jeremiah 29:11-13
New International Version (NIV)
11 For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. 12 Then you will call on me and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you. 13 You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart.
