I made a comment in my 8/14 "Walmart" blog about ruminating all night at work on "this can't be my life," and a commenter suggested I should write about that subject. As this was my first -- and only! -- actual blog content request, here goes.
Do you ever have moments when you are jolted by the thought "Whose life is this I'm living? It sure doesn't feel like mine!" Seems like I've been jolted by this same thought nearly every day of my adult life. Why? I know I've been making the choices that have shaped this life, but it feels like some evil demon has possessed the outcomes because nothing turned out like I expected. There, that's the damn demon -- my expectations. I expected:
Do you ever have moments when you are jolted by the thought "Whose life is this I'm living? It sure doesn't feel like mine!" Seems like I've been jolted by this same thought nearly every day of my adult life. Why? I know I've been making the choices that have shaped this life, but it feels like some evil demon has possessed the outcomes because nothing turned out like I expected. There, that's the damn demon -- my expectations. I expected:
- that there was something special about me. Since I was a kid, I felt I had some special purpose, a calling all my own, that would someday magically appear and make me feel worthwhile and fulfilled. Nope. Hasn't happened. I've done a lot of jobs and tried a lot of things, but the closest I've come to feeling worthwhile and fulfilled is when I am writing, when I get in the "flow" of thoughts and words so deeply that I forget to pee until I am in pain. The flowing exhilaration is short-lived though. Once I'm done and what I've written is "out there," nothing happens. Or not much, anyway. I've published two books and given away more than I sold. I write three blogs, supposedly the platform that brings instant connection to your readers and solidifies your status as an author, and I rarely get a comment or a "like" on Facebook. Basically, what my business card says is true: I write so my head won't explode from word overload. I have to write whenever I can or I'll go crazy (crazier). And I write because nothing else I do makes me feel as good, despite the disappointments. But my writing, my special purpose if I have one, isn't bringing me fame or fortune or even fulfillment, so it doesn't feel like anything special to me.
- that I would be successful. I was brainwashed with the American Dream adage, that if I just worked hard enough I could be anything I wanted to be, and my parents hammered that home anytime I would slack off. What bullshit! I've worked hard all my life and where has it gotten me? I'm 51, working a part-time job that by the end of the day makes every joint in my body hurt like a toothache and that if I didn't show up, someone else could take over and no one would even know I was gone. I have no health insurance, not much in savings. I have no idea how I could support myself if my health fails, no light at the end of the work tunnel that I might someday be able to retire and relax. I was even voted "Most Likely To Succeed" in high school. Too bad they didn't give me a clue at what to "succeed." I've given my best at everything I've ever done -- job-wise and otherwise -- but it sure doesn't feel like I've been successful.
- that I would be happy. Even after realizing I'm nothing special and not successful, somehow hope prevailed that I would hit on the right combination of relationships, job(s), spiritual practices, and life bling (not jewelry, I'm talking hobbies, or travel, or whatever makes your life sparkle), and for once everything would click in my world. Then I would be happy, content with my lot in life. That hasn't happened either. Most days I have to think up a reason to keep on breathing. Don't get me wrong, I have snippets of happiness, but not nearly enough to give me contentment. I know it's possible. My grandparents had very simple lives, my grandpa working the same job most all his life while my grandma kept the house, but they were happy, content with what their lives were and weren't. I wish I knew their secret.
Anonymous All, this is for you!
ReplyDeleteHappiness is an internal choice. Looking for and waiting for the right combination of externals- job/relationship/ whatever- will never make you happy. You may wait forever. Happiness is a decision you make and then live accordingly. If something isn't working and you believe a
ReplyDeleteChange would help, make the change. Don't wait for life to happen to you. You must happen to life. Your grandparents knew this. They knew that happiness and contentment was a choice that they made and they did. They 'made do' with what was in front of them. Waiting to be happy until you're a famous author or a lottery winner may leave you waiting forever. As my Kevin would say, get out of your own way. The only person standing between you and contentment is you. Make some changes. Shake things up if needed. You are special because there's no one else in the world like you. You define 'success' for yourself and I see a ton of successes in your life. You have time to write and do things that I don't have time to do because of your part time work schedule. You have a life partner that supports you in every way. There's a whole lot to be grateful for in your life. Even the struggles are opportunities to grow. I'd rather my life be x, y, and z. Instead I've got a, b, and c. I've chosen to be happy with as is because x, y, and z may take years and may never happen. I'm trying very hard to not waste time miserable for all that I don't have but being grateful and making the most of what I do have. It really comes down to you and what you decide.
I get what you're saying, I just can't seem to get there for very long. Maybe a lobotomy would help me to "choose" happiness instead of wallowing in "this can't be my life"?! Christmas is just around the corner; I'll put it on my wish list.
ReplyDelete~over a month late reading~
ReplyDeleteThere is something special about you. I don't know what it is, but you do spark creativity in me for some odd reason. (It's weird and I still have no idea.)
Umm. "Lowering your expectations" sounds awful but in this case could help. For example, I don't expect to ever get published -- for many reasons, but let's just use this as an example -- because realistically I know it's fairly rare. So, knowing this, I only shoot to write once a day or a week or a month or whatever. Urgh, I am about to take a test in an hour so my brain is just kaput and words are not coming correctly. I will email you, though. Yeah.
Thanks for saying there is something special about me, even though "It's weird" and you have no idea what it is. And you're right, when I can lower my expectations, or better yet suspend them completely, I am happier. But fool that I am, just like staying hopeful to win the lottery, I keep believing that if I only try a little harder, write a little better, reach the right audience, something I write will go viral or something crazy like that, I will be "discovered," and I will finally feel special, successful, and contented. Plus maybe I'll make some SERIOUS CASH for once in my life and can forget about the lottery! I guess if I can't dream, then I'm done, so I'll keep dreaming. But thanks for the reminder not to let expectations bite me in the ass and take away the joy of writing!
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