Blooming
I always imagined a life for myself that looked significantly different than the one I am currently living. I imagined a happy marriage and children. I imagined living my entire life in California, where I was familiar with the routine rhythm of the days. I imagined living in a house with my husband and children. I imagined I’d be an elementary school teacher, writer, librarian, or director of religious education. I imagined that my husband would be the primary breadwinner, but that I would go back to work after the children started school to supplement the family income.
I often say, “Terri proposes and God disposes.” My imaginary life sounds wonderful, but there was a fundamental flaw in my thinking. That fundamental flaw? Life happens. Sometimes life happening is a delightful swirl of serendipity. Sometimes, not so much. Here are some of the curves in the road that laughed in the face of my imaginary life:
- A husband who was pursuing advanced degrees, requiring me to support us immediately after earning my undergraduate degree
- A difficult marriage ending in divorce
- The stratospheric cost of housing in Southern California
- A move across the country to central Florida
- My lack of confidence and resiliency in overcoming barriers
This all sounds pretty grim, I know. However, I long ago accepted the fact that imaginary lives are not always what they are cracked up to be. Another axiom I’ve espoused is “Bloom where you are planted.” These curves in the road were extremely difficult and painful, but they are richer than that. They may not have been stretches of road that I wanted to travel, but there were some benefits.
I don’t think that I am a scholar at heart. I am an intelligent person. My brain works more than passably well. I did well at every level of school. However, I don’t think I was ever a person who luxuriated in the process of studying. Yes, I enjoy learning interesting things. Overall, though, education and degrees always seemed like more of a means to an end rather than an end in and of itself. It may be that pursuing the additional degrees necessary for most of my imaginary life jobs would not have been joyful to me. The job I got right out of school might not have been dream job, but it led to a meaningful, successful career. I did it well. It enabled me to grow and explore some uniquely wonderful parts of myself. The work did not always mesh well with my unique disposition, but it did give me something that has always been important to me- security. My career also gave me some of the best friends I have ever had- friends that carried me during some difficult life challenges.
I confess that seeing the bright side of a painful marriage is not easy. I’m not sure I bloomed through that particular curve in the road. I may have wilted, but I did not die. That must be the win, I guess. I believe that, somewhere in that experience, something was planted in me that has enabled me to evolve and grow into the person I am now. I am an empathetic person. I am a loving person. I am an intuitive person. I am a person who reads nuances well. I think God put all those things inside me, but I am not sure I would have learned to use them as effectively had I not experienced my marriage. It took me many years to figure that out, but here we are.
A divorce? The silver lining, although I could not see it at the time, was that I needed to be free. I railed against that freedom for some time, much to my detriment. Today, I am so grateful for the divorce, which gave me the space to start living who I am rather than what I thought a wife should be. There probably was nothing wrong with my vision of marriage, but the marriage I had was not the vision. Also, a divorce meant that, many years later, I got to build a life with a man who is my partner in happiness.
I never bought a house in California- largely because of financial limitations. I made decent money, but I did not have the benefit of being part of a DINK (double-income, no kids) household. I bought a tiny little condominium, which became pretty crowded when Max moved in with me. Still, it was a cozy, happy little home where we went from being girlfriend/boyfriend to being life partners. When I eventually sold the condo before our move to Florida, I cleared enough money to start our new life in Florida in a debt-free house and a nest egg to buy furnishings. That little condo was good to me and my memories of it will always be soul-warming.
The move to Florida was scary and jarring. I left the known and steeled myself for the unknown. You have heard the saying, “better the devil you know than the devil you don’t know?” I’m afraid my personality tends to take it even further- “better the devil you know than the angel you don’t know (because who can really trust an angel, anyway?)” The first eighteen months or so were brutal. I had an existential crisis practically every day. Everything was so different and more complicated than I expected. Right about the time the mental overload was receding enough for me to see that not everything about Florida was trying to kill me, my mother had a massive stroke. This tide rolled in again on my medulla oblongata. It was hard not to blame Florida for this constant state of brain flood. The cortisol running around in me kept screaming at me, “UNSAFE! UNSAFE! UNSAFE!”
Still, today I am so happy we moved. I love our little house. I love my church. I love my Florida friends. I love the ways I have been able to develop my talents and passions. I love how safe I feel.
So, the only real hairpin curve that remains to examine is my own lack of confidence and resilience in facing challenges. I’m not sure if the lack of these traits is a circumstance on its own or simply a natural result of the other circumstances. I suspect the latter. And, given the analysis I have just relayed here, I think lack might be a fallacy. It seems to me that I have been more confident, resilient, and positive than I might have thought all those years. I have spent years coming to that realization and shoring up that realization to make it more stable and lasting. If I am honest, I know that some of the curves in the road I’ve experienced have brought some of the opportunities that helped with the shoring up.
So, bloom where I’m planted? Maybe God planted me exactly where I can bloom best.