Friday, October 27, 2006

The fear of mediocrity

2002

Driving home on the Seattle bus. It was evening in the winter - it would have been black except for the million lights. Cars and businesses and streetlights lit up the city and gave an almost magical glow to the ride home. The air was brisk and it smelled like snow. Christmas was coming and I would spend an entire weekend at home.

I felt so important. And really, I wasn't. I was part of a huge contingent (some 30,000) of University of Washington students, who in the next few years would flood the business market with high expectations and dreams of success.

I worked two jobs throughout college- different ones here and there- nanny, office clerk, marketing intern. Nothing too original or exciting. But I was working, I was passionate, and I was going to be someone some day.

Driving home on that bus. I was alone. I worried about money...grades...my future...but in some odd way I was content- joyful even. I had no idea what the future held for me but I watched the buildings pass and I could feel important as if just by being in this big city and going to the college of my youthful dreams gave my life meaning.

2006
Are you happy?
My dad calls. Concerned.
I mean, you are so far out there, alone.
I'm not that alone, though. I have friends here, and Phil and Ryan. We are far from neighbors, but it's not like we are isolated. You don't spend that much time with your neighbors, right? It's like that.
But I have a job...I am involved in the community. Time alone is good for me when I can get it. It's just that I worry about you. These are the most productive years of your life...

I know, dad. It scares me, too. This fear of mediocrity. Like I could be something so great but instead, all I am is a mom, and a wife. A homeowner and a friend. A daughter and an aunt. I have no job, and I have no master's degree. I am not a highly paid executive nor am I aspiring to become one. I have never flown to London on business. I fear, dad, that I will be nothing more than a person- important to those only who love me. That my daily routine will not involve important business meetings or commutes with my trusty Starbucks to comfort me in the wee hours of the morning. My days will instead consist of cleaning and laundry, cooking and child-rearing. Much less glamorous and you can imagine I have fought one or two battles in my mind over this one.

I worry that I will be insignificant. That I am wasting my life day by day when I could be so much more successful. I think of how much easier our lives could be if I were to just stop all of this stay-at-home nonsense and have a real career, already. I tell myself that Ryan would certainly be fine growing up in daycare.

Today I made cookies with Ryan. He rocked back and forth and danced on the chair as I let him pour in flour and chocolate chips. He snitched at least ten chocolate chips before I could wrestle the cup from him and pour the remainder in the mixer. When I let him down he ran and hid from me in the other room. I didn't notice we were playing the game until I walked in the room and heard a scuffling, silence, and then a small giggle. I called "Ryaaan" and was rewarded with louder laughter. I snuck behind him and startled him, sending him into peals of laughter that warmed my soul.

I miss you, dad. I miss mom and I miss friends. I miss family. I worry about money and the future. I worry that I will be discontent with a life of mediocrity. But unhappy, I am not. We laugh and have fun. We have good dinners with friends and work hard on fixing up an old house so it can be our home. I know you miss me, so I don't know if that makes you happy or sad. Maybe both. Its the kind of thing that put my stomach into knots the entire morning following our conversation. Because your fears echo those of my own. You stand on the side of the small voices in my head, the fearful, worrysome ones that tell me there is MORE to life. Its the kind of tearing at my heart that is so painful- one part of me wanting to be someone important, the other part of me knowing I already am someone important.

But there's joy that can be found. Contentment can be had anywhere - for you and for me. You have a daughter 1800 miles away. I have an entire family 1800 miles away. But you still laugh, and enjoy life. And so do I. Its not the same, all of this long distance stuff, but it can still be good. And I love you. Don't forget that. Through it all and even though I live out here I still love you all so very much. And I'm sorry its hard for you.

5 comments:

Anonymous said...

Wow! As soon as I go drain my keyboard I'll write something.

Anonymous said...

It kind of hurts that you posted dad in this light. That is not how he meant those questions he asked you. We as a family are VERRY VERRY happy that you have the oppertunity to stay home with your family. There is nothing wrong with that. In fact, a lot of families WISH they could do what you are able to do. We just look at you and see what you have and wish that you were here, with us, sharing those moments of Ryan's spontanious hide and seek games. He worries about your financial state, with Phil being the only provider,(KUDOS to Phil!) when emergencies arive (well, car, etc...)he wants to know that you wil be taken care of. HE IS your father after all. And I for one am glad that he is so worried about your family and your well being. Please know that he didn't mean to offend you in ANY way. He is just being dad.

Anonymous said...

Krissy,
It was not my intention to post dad in a bad light...these are fears of my own. It just happens that dad called at the perfect time, right when I was feeling unsure of myself and my decisions. I know that dad is only concerned- just as I posted. I think, kris, his worries are those of my own, which is why they strike home. I also don't think I am alone in feeling unsure or uncertain or questioning myself in these areas. I have talked to a lot of people who seem to feel the same doubts. So, while dad is mentioned in this blog, it really isn't about him as much as it is about me. I love you, sis.

Anonymous said...

Just so the readers know, the deleted comment was one that was an ad for a website (selling fireplace screens?) Because I don't believe in posting random ads that have nothing to do with a blog but only attempt to drive customers to their site, I spared you all and deleted his solicitation.

Anonymous said...

Trace - You've touched an area that I've wrestled with for years. That inner struggle of figuring out that in all actuallity "you can't have it all, you do have to make choices" and "anything of value does cost something". Be that either going for a career or being a full-time homemaker. I'm not sure that it matters which side of the fence that you land on, you'll always question your decision when the tuff times roll around, which they do for all of us. I think we all, individually, have to do that inner soul search on just what are our priorities that we place for our lives..........then build our lives around them the best that we can. Will it be perfect? Never! Will you still have 2nd thoughts? Yep! But when you reach a later season of your life it will bring a warmth inside your heart, that you did the best you could with what you had and with your trust in God to fill the gaps. Love you 3. Stay encouraged!!